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21062.txt
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Project Gutenberg's The Cruise of the Nonsuch Buccaneer, by Harry Collingwood
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Cruise of the Nonsuch Buccaneer
Author: Harry Collingwood
Illustrator: John Williamson
Release Date: April 13, 2007 [EBook #21062]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRUISE OF THE NONSUCH ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Cruise of the "Nonsuch" Buccaneer
By Harry Collingwood
________________________________________________________________________
An excellent book by this accomplished writer of nautical stories for
teenagers. The date is 1569. The young George St. Leger arrives back
from a cruise in the Bonaventure, owned locally in Plymouth, and shortly
after he and his mother are told that his brother has been captured by
the Spaniards, somewhere in the West Indies.
A friendly shipbuilder has a new vessel, the Nonsuch, almost ready to
sail, and he agrees with George that he will finance a voyage in search
of the brother, in return for half of the proceedings of the voyage, for
the Nonsuch has been designed as a fast-sailing buccaneer.
The crew are all local Devon men, so much of the dialogue in the book is
in a strong Devonian accent, still to be heard in the outlying districts
of that beautiful county.
They set off as soon as possible, knowing that the Government might well
requisition the Nonsuch. There are plenty of adventures and battles,
but eventually the brother is found, but in very dire straits, for he
might have died if found only a few minutes later.
There is an interesting and very revealing episode where we are shown
how the Spanish Inquisition worked.
Makes a very nice audiobook about eleven hours in length.
________________________________________________________________________
THE CRUISE OF THE "NONSUCH" BUCCANEER
BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD
CHAPTER ONE.
HOW GEORGE SAINT LEGER RETURNED FROM FOREIGN PARTS.
The time was mid-afternoon, the date was January the 9th, in the year of
our Lord 1569; and the good town of Plymouth was basking in the hazy
sunlight and mild temperature of one of those delightful days that
occasionally visit the metropolis of the West Country, even in mid-
winter, under the beneficent influence of the Gulf Stream combined with
a soft but enduring breeze from the south-south-east charged with warm
air from the Saharan desert and the Mediterranean.
So mild and genial was the weather that certain lads, imbued with that
spirit of lawlessness and adventure which seems inherent in the nature
of the young Briton, had conspired together to defy the authority of
their schoolmaster by playing truant from afternoon school and going to
bathe in Firestone Bay. And it was while these lads were dressing,
after revelling in their stolen enjoyment, that their attention was
attracted by the appearance of a tall ship gliding up the Sound before
the soft breathing of the languid breeze.
That she was a foreign-going ship was evident at a glance, first from
her size, and, secondly, from the whiteness of her canvas, bleached by
long exposure to a southern sun; and as she drew nearer, the display of
flags and pennons which she made, and the sounds of trumpet, fife,
hautboy, and drum which floated down the wind from her seemed to
indicate that her captain regarded his safe arrival in English waters as
something in the nature of a triumph.
By the time that she had arrived abreast of Picklecombe Point the
bathers had completely resumed their clothing and, having climbed to the
highest point within easy reach, now stood interestedly watching the
slow approach of the ship, her progress under the impulse of the gentle
breeze being greatly retarded by the ebb tide. Speculation was rife
among the little group of boys upon the question of the ship's identity,
some maintaining that she must necessarily be a Plymouther, otherwise
what was she doing there, while others, for no very clearly denned
reason, expressed the contrary opinion.
At length one of the party who had been intently regarding the craft for
several minutes, suddenly flung his cap into the air, caught it as it
fell, and exclaimed excitedly as he replaced it on his head:
"I know her, I du; 'tis my Uncle Marshall's _Bonaventure_, whoam from
the Mediterranean and Spain; I'm off to tell my uncle. 'Twas only
yesterday that I heard him say he'd give a noble to know that the
_Bonaventure_ had escaped the Spaniards; and a noble will pay me well
for the flogging that I shall get from old Sir John, if Uncle Richard
tells him that I played truant to go bathing. But I don't believe he
will; he'll be so mighty pleased to hear about the _Bonaventure_ that
he'll forget to ask how I come to be to Firestone Bay instead of to
schule."
And the exultant lad dashed away toward Stonehouse, accompanied by his
companions, each of whom was instantly ready to help with suggestions as
to the spending of the prospective noble.
The historian of the period has omitted to record whether that worthy,
Mr Richard Marshall, one of the most thriving merchants of Plymouth,
was as good as his word in the matter of the promised noble; but
probably he was, for shortly after the arrival of his nephew with the
momentous news, the good man emerged from his house, smiling and rubbing
his hands with satisfaction, and made the best of his way to the wharf
in Stonehouse Pool, alongside which he knew that the _Bonaventure_ would
moor, and was there speedily joined by quite a little crowd of other
people who were all more or less intimately interested in the ship and
her crew, and who had been brought to the spot by the rapid spread of
the news that the _Bonaventure_ was approaching.
To the impatient watchers it seemed an age before the ship hove in sight
at the mouth of the Pool. At length, however, as the sun dipped behind
the wooded slopes across the water toward Millbrook, a ship's spritsail
and sprit topsail, with a long pennon streaming from the head of the
mast which supported the latter, crept slowly into view beyond Devil's
Point, to the accompaniment of a general shout of "There a be!" from the
waiting crowd, and a minute later the entire ship stood revealed,
heading up the Pool under all sail, to the impulse of the dying breeze
which was by this time so faint that the white canvas of the approaching
craft scarcely strained at all upon its sheets and yards.
For the period, the _Bonaventure_ was a ship of considerable size, her
registered measurement being one hundred and twenty-seven tons. She was
practically new, the voyage which she was now completing being only her
second. Like other ships of her size and time, she was very beamy, with
rounded sides that tumbled home to a degree that in these days would be
regarded as preposterous. She carried the usual fore and after castles,
the latter surmounting the after extremity of her lofty poop. She was
rigged with three masts in addition to the short spar which reared
itself from the outer extremity of her bowsprit, and upon which the
sprit topsail was set, the fore and main masts spreading courses,
topsails, and--what was then quite an innovation--topgallant sails,
while the mizen spread a lateen-shaped sail stretched along a sloping
yard suspended just beneath the top, in the position occupied in these
days by the cross-jack. She was armed with twenty-two cannon of various
sizes and descriptions, and she mustered a crew of fifty-six men and
boys, all told. Her hull was painted a rich orange-brown colour down to
a little above the water-line, beneath which ran a narrow black stripe
right round her hull, dividing the brown colour of her topsides from her
white-painted bottom which, by the way, was now almost hidden by a rank
growth of green weed. She carried one large poop lantern, and displayed
from her flagstaff the red cross of Saint George, while from her fore
and main topgallant-mastheads, from the peak of her mizen, and from the
head of her sprit-topmast lazily waved other flags and pennons. As she
swung into view round Devil's Point the blare of trumpets and the roll
of drums reached the ears of the crowd which awaited her arrival; but
these sounds presently ceased as her crew proceeded to brail up and furl
sail after sail; and some ten minutes later, scarcely stemming the
outgoing tide, she drifted slowly in toward her berth alongside the
wharf. Ropes were thrown, great hawsers were hauled ashore and made
fast to sturdy bollards, fenders were dropped overside, and the
_Bonaventure_ was very smartly secured abreast the warehouse which was
destined to receive her cargo.
Then, when the ship had been securely moored, fore and aft, her gangway
was thrown open, a gang-plank was run out from the deck to the wharf,
and Mr Richard Marshall, her owner, stepped on board and advanced with
outstretched hand toward a short, stout, grey-haired man who had
hitherto occupied a conspicuous position on the poop, but who now
descended the poop ladder with some difficulty and hobbled towards the
gangway.
The contrast between the two men was great in every way, except perhaps
in the matter of age, for both were on the shady side of fifty; but
while one of them, Mr Richard Marshall, merchant and shipowner, to wit,
was still hale and hearty, carrying himself as straight and upright as
though he were still in the prime of early manhood, the other, who was
none other than John Burroughs, the captain of the _Bonaventure_, moved
stiffly and limped painfully as a result of many wounds received during
his forty years of seafaring life, coupled with a rapidly increasing
tendency to suffer from severe attacks of rheumatism. And they differed
in dress as greatly as in their personal appearance; for while the
merchant was soberly if not somewhat sombrely garbed in dark brown
broadcloth, with a soft, broad-brimmed felt hat to match, the captain
(in rank defiance of the sumptuary laws then existing) sported trunk
hosen of pale pink satin, a richly embroidered and padded satin doublet
of the same hue, confined at the waist by a belt of green satin heavily
broidered with gold thread, from which depended on one side a long
rapier and on the other a wicked-looking Venetian dagger with jewelled
hilt and sheath, while, surmounting his grizzled and rather scanty
locks, he wore, jauntily set on one side, a Venetian cap of green velvet
adorned with a large gold and cameo brooch which secured a long green
feather drooping gracefully over the wearer's left shoulder. But let
not the unsophisticated reader imagine, in the innocence of his heart,
that the garb above described was that usually affected by mariners of
the Elizabethan period, while at sea. It was not. But they frequently
displayed a weakness for showy dress while in port, and especially when
about to go ashore for the first time after the termination of a voyage.
"Welcome home again, Cap'n John," exclaimed Marshall, grasping the hand
of the sailor and wringing it so heartily that poor Burroughs winced at
the pain of his rheumatism-racked wrist and shoulder. "I am glad to see
you safely back, for I was beginning to feel a bit uneasy lest the King
of Spain had caught you in his embargo."
"Iss, fegs; and so mun very nearly did," answered the captain; "indeed,
if it hadn't ha' been for young Garge Saint Leger--who, bein' out of his
time, I've made pilot in place of poor Matthews, who was killed in a
bout wi' the Barbary rovers on our outward voyage--he'd ha' had us, sure
as pigs baint nightingales. But Garge have got the fiend's own gift for
tongues and languages, and the night avore we sailed he happened to be
ashore lookin' round Santander, and while he were standin' on one side
of a pillar in a church he heard two Spanishers on t'other side of that
there same pillar talkin' about the embargo that King Philip was goin'
to declare again' the English at midnight that very night as ever was.
Like a good boy, Garge waited until the two Spanishers had left the
church, and then comed straight down aboard and told me what he'd heard.
At first I didn't put very much faith in the yarn, I'll own to't, but
that there Garge so pestered and worrited me that at last I let mun have
mun's way; and ten minutes afore midnight the _Bonaventure_ was under
way and standin' out o' the harbour. We managed to get out without
bein' fired upon by the batteries. But if you'll believe me, sir, they
sent a galley out a'ter us, and if it hadn't ha' happened that the wind
was blowin' fresh from about west, and a nasty lump of a beam sea
runnin', dang my ugly buttons if that galley wouldn't ha' had us! But
the galley rolled so heavy that they couldn't use their oars to
advantage, while the _Bonaventure_ is so fast as any dolphin with a beam
wind and enough of it to make us furl our topgallants; so we got away."
"And a very smart piece of work, too, apparently," said Mr Marshall.
"I must not forget to thank George Saint Leger for his share in it. Has
your voyage been a success, Captain?"
"So, so; I don't think you'll find much to complain about when we comes
to go into the figures," answered Burroughs. "We had a bit of a brush
wi' the rovers, who comed out against us in three ships, during our
outward voyage, but we beat 'em off wi' the loss of only one man--poor
Matthews, as I mentioned just now--since when we've had no call to fire
a single shot."
"Excellent, excellent!" commented the merchant, rubbing his hands. "Of
course I am very sorry to learn that Matthews was slain; but these
things will happen at sea from time to time. Well, to-morrow we will
have the hatches off and begin discharging. While that is proceeding I
must consider what next to do with the ship; for it will be useless to
think of further trade with the Mediterranean while the Spanish embargo
lasts, and Heaven only knows how long that will be."
"Ay," assented Burroughs. "'Tis a pity that her Grace up to Whitehall
can't make up her mind one way or t'other about this here Spanish
business; whether she'll be friends wi' Philip, or will fight mun. For
all this here shilly-shallyin', first one way and then t'other, be
terrible upsettin' to folks like we. But there, what be I grumblin'
about? 'Twont make a mort o' difference to me, because I've made up my
mind as it's time for me to knock off the sea and settle down snug and
comfortable ashore for the rest of my days. I be that bad wi' the
rheumatics that I've got to get the cabin boy to help me put on my
clothes, and when there be a sea runnin' and the ship do roll a bit I
can't sleep for the pain in my j'ints. So, Mr Marshall, I may 's well
give 'e notice, here and now, so's you'll ha' plenty of time to look
about 'e for another cap'n."
"Dear me, dear me! I am very sorry to hear that, Cap'n," exclaimed Mr
Marshall. "But," he continued, "ever since the declaration of the
embargo I have been thinking what I would do with the _Bonaventure_ in
the event of her escaping from the Spaniards, and I had almost decided
to lay her up until the dispute is settled one way or the other. Now if
you stay ashore until that time arrives, and take care of yourself,
perhaps you will find yourself quite able to take command of her again
when she next goes to sea."
"No," asserted Burroughs decisively; "I ha' made up my mind, and I'll
stick to it. The sea's no place for a man afflicted as I be. Besides,
I ha' done very well in the matter o' they private ventures that you've
allowed me to engage in; there's a very tidy sum o' money standin' to my
credit in Exeter Bank, and there's neither chick nor child to use it
a'ter I be gone, so I might so well enjoy it and be comfortable for the
rest o' my days, and at the same time make way for a younger man. Now,
there be Garge," he continued, lowering his tone. "'Tis true that he be
but a lad; but he'm a sailor to the tips of his fingers; he'm so good a
seaman and navigator as I be; he've a-got coolness and courage when they
be most needed; he knoweth how to handle a crew; he've got the gift of
tongues; and--he'm a gentleman, which is a danged sight more than I be.
You might do a mort worse, Mr Marshall, than give he the _Bonaventure_
when next you sends her to sea."
"H'm! do you really think so?" returned the merchant. "He is very
young, you know, Captain; too young, I think, to bear the responsibility
attending the command of such a ship as the _Bonaventure_. But--well, I
will think it over. Your recommendation of course will carry very great
weight with me."
"Ay, and so't ought to," retorted the blunt-spoken old skipper. "I've
served you now a matter of over thirty years, and you've never yet had
to find fault wi' my judgment. And you won't find it wrong either in
that there matter o' Garge."
After which the subject was dropped, and the pair proceeded to the
discussion of various matters which have no bearing upon the present
history.
Meanwhile, during the progress of the above-recorded conversation, the
crew, having completed the mooring of the ship, proceeded to furl the
sails which had been merely hauled down or clewed up as the craft
approached the wharf; and when this job had been performed to the
satisfaction of a tall, strapping young fellow who stood upon the poop
supervising operations, the mariners laid down from aloft and, the
business of the ship being over for the day, were dismissed from duty.
As every man aboard the _Bonaventure_ happened to call Plymouth "home,"
this meant on their part a general swarming ashore to join the relatives
and friends who patiently awaited them on the wharf; whereupon the
little crowd quickly melted away.
Then, and not until then, the tall, strapping young fellow upon the
poop--familiarly referred to by Captain Burroughs as "Garge," and
henceforth to be known to us as George Saint Leger and the hero of the
moving story which the writer proposes to set forth in the following
pages--descended to the main deck, uttered a word or two of greeting and
caution to the two sturdy ship-keepers who had already come on board to
take care of ship and cargo during the absence of the crew, and with
quick, springy step, strode to the gang-plank, and so to the wharf,
whither the captain, in Mr Marshall's company, had preceded him.
As he strode along the wharf, with that slight suggestion of a roll in
his gait which marks the man whose feet have been long accustomed to the
feel of a heaving deck, he cast a quick, eager, recognising glance at
the varied features of the scene around him, his somewhat striking
countenance lighting up as he noted the familiar details of the long
line of quaint warehouses which bordered the wharf, the coasters which
were moored ahead and astern of the _Bonaventure_, the fishing craft
grounded upon the mud higher up the creek, the well remembered houses of
various friends dotted about here and there, the heights of Mount
Edgcumbe shadowy and mysterious in the deepening twilight, and the
slopes of Mount Wise across the water; and a joyous smile irradiated his
features as his gaze settled upon a small but elegant cottage, of the
kind now known as a bungalow, standing in the midst of a large,
beautifully kept garden, situated upon the very extremity of the Mount
and commanding an uninterrupted view of the Sound. For in that cottage,
from three windows of which beamed welcoming lights, he knew that his
mother, and perchance his elder brother Hubert, awaited his coming. For
a moment he paused, gazing lovingly at the lights, then, striding on
again, he quickly reached the end of the wharf and, hurrying down the
ferry steps, sprang into a boat which he found lying alongside.
"So you'm back again all safe, Mr Garge, sir," exclaimed the occupant
of the boat as he threw out an oar to bear the craft off from the wharf
wall, while young Saint Leger seated himself in the stern sheets. "I
been here waitin' for 'e for the last hour or more. The mistress seed
the ship a comin' in, and knowed her, and her says to me--`Tom, the
_Bonaventure_ be whoam again. Now, you go down and take the boat and go
across to the wharf, for Master Garge 'll be in a hurry to come over,
and maybe the wherry won't be there just when he's ready to come; so you
go over and wait for un.' And here I be. Welcome home again, sir."
"Thanks, Tom," answered Saint Leger, "I did not recognise you for the
moment. And how is my mother?"
"She's just about as well as can be reasonably expected, sir,
considerin' the way that she's been worritin' about you and Mr
Hubert--'specially 'bout you, sir, since the news of the King of Spain's
embargo have been made known," answered the man Tom, who was in fact the
gardener and general handy man at The Nest, as Mrs Saint Leger's
cottage was named.
"Poor dear soul," murmured George; "she will fret herself to death over
Hu and me, before all's done, I am afraid. So Captain Hawkins has not
yet returned, Tom?"
"Not yet a bain't, sir. But he've only been gone a matter o' fifteen
months; and 'tis only a year since mun sailed from the Guinea coast for
the Indies, so 'tis a bit early yet to be expectin' mun back. When he
and Franky Drake du get over there a spoilin' the Egyptians, as one
might say, there be no knowin' how long they'll stay there. I don't
look to see 'em back till they'm able to come wi' their ships loaded wi'
Spanish gould; and it'll take a mort o' time to vind six shiploads o'
gould," returned Tom.
"And has no news of the expedition been received since its arrival on
the Spanish Main?" asked George.
"Not as I've heard of, sir," answered Tom. "The last news of 'em was
that they'd sailed from the Guinea coast some time about the end of
January; and how that comed I don't know. But I expect 'tis true,
because Madam got it from Madam Hawkins, who comed over expressly to
tell her."
"Ah, well, I suppose we shall hear in God's good time," commented
George. "Back water with your starboard oar, Tom, and pull larboard, or
you'll smash in the bows of the boat against the steps. So! way enough.
Haul her to and let me get out. If I am not mistaken there is my
mother waiting for me under the verandah. Thanks! Good night, Tom, and
put that in your pocket for luck."
So saying the young man handed Tom a ducat, and sprang out of the boat,
up the landing steps, and made his way rapidly up the steep garden path
toward the house, beneath the verandah of which a female figure could be
dimly seen by the sheen of the lighted windows. As George Saint Leger
neared the brow of the slope upon which The Nest was built, this same
female figure ran down the verandah steps to meet him, and a moment
later he and his mother were locked in each other's arms.
"My boy, my boy!" crooned Mrs Saint Leger as she nestled in her son's
embrace and tiptoed up to kiss the lips that sought her own--"welcome
home again, a thousand welcomes! I saw the ship while she was yet
outside Saint Nicholas Island and, with the help of the perspective
glass that you brought me from Genoa, was able to recognise her as the
_Bonaventure_. And later, when she rounded the point and entered the
Pool, I saw you standing beside Captain Burroughs on the poop, and so
knew that all was well with you. Come in, my dear, and let me look at
you. Supper is all ready and waiting, and there is a fine big coal fire
blazing in the dining-room, for I knew you would feel the air chilly
after that of the Mediterranean."
A moment later the pair entered the warm, cosy dining-room, and stood
intently regarding each other by the light of a candelabrum which
occupied the centre of the handsomely appointed table. And while they
stand thus, with their hands upon each other's shoulders, each
scrutinising the face of the other, we may seize the opportunity to make
the acquaintance of both; for with one of them at least we purpose to
participate in many a strange scene and stirring adventure in those
western Indies, the wonders and fabulous wealth of which were just
beginning to be made known to Englishmen through that redoubtable rover
and slaver, Captain John Hawkins.
Mrs Saint Leger was a small, somewhat delicate and fragile-looking
woman, just turned forty-six years of age, yet, although people seemed
to age a great deal more quickly in those days than in these, and
although, as the widow of one sailor and the mother of two others, she
had known much anxiety and mental stress, she retained her youthful
appearance to a degree that was a constant source of wonder to her many
friends. Her form was still as girlish as when Hugh Saint Leger proudly
led her to the altar twenty-eight years before we make her acquaintance.
Her cheeks were still smooth and round, her violet eyes, deep and
tender, were still bright despite the many tears which anxiety for her
husband and sons had caused her to shed, and which her bitter grief had
evoked when, some seven years earlier, the news had been brought to her
of her husband's death while gallantly defending his ship against an
attack by Salee pirates. Her golden-brown hair was still richly
luxuriant, and only the most rigorous search would have revealed the
presence of a silver thread here and there. And lastly, she stood just
five feet four inches in her high-heeled shoes, and--in honour of her
younger son's safe arrival home--was garbed, in the height of the
prevailing mode, in a gown of brown velvet that exactly matched the
colour of her hair, with long pointed bodice heavily embroidered with
gold thread, voluminous farthingale, long puffed sleeves, ruffed lace
collar, lace stomacher, and lace ruffles at her dainty wrists.
George Saint Leger, aged twenty, stood five feet ten inches in his
stockings, though he did not look anything like that height, so broad
were his shoulders and so robustly built was his frame. He had not yet
nearly attained to his full growth, and promised, if he went on as he
was going, to become a veritable giant some five or six years hence. He
had his mother's eyes and hair--the latter growing in short soft
ringlets all over his head--and he inherited a fair share also of his
mother's beauty, although in his case it was tempered and made manly by
a very square chin, firm, close-set lips, and a certain suggestion of
sternness and even fierceness in the steady intent gaze of the eyes. He
was garbed, like his captain, in doublet, trunk hose, and cap, but in
George's case the garments were made of good serviceable cloth, dyed a
deep indigo blue colour, and his cap--which he now held in his hand--was
unadorned with either feather or brooch. Also, he wore no weapons of
any kind save those with which nature had provided him.
"Egad! it is good to feel your arms round me, little mother, and to find
myself in this dear old room again," exclaimed the lad as he gazed down
into his mother's loving eyes. "And you--surely you must have
discovered the whereabout of the fount of perpetual youth, for you do
not look a day older than when I went away."
"Nonsense, silly boy," returned the delighted little lady as she freed
herself from her stalwart son's embrace, "art going to celebrate thy
return home by beginning to pay compliments to thy old mother? But,
indeed," she continued more seriously, "'tis a wonder that I am not
grey-headed, for the anxiety that I have suffered on thy account,
George, and that of thy brother Hubert, has scarcely suffered me to know
a moment's peace."
"Dear soul alive, I'll warrant that's true," agreed George. "But,
mother, you need never be anxious about me, for there's not a better or
stauncher ship afloat than the _Bonaventure_, nor one that carries a
finer captain and crew. We've held our own in many a stiff bout with
weather and the enemy, and can do it again, please God. And as for Hu,
I think you need fear as little for him as for me, for with Hawkins as
admiral, and Frankie Drake as second in command, with six good ships to
back them up, they should be able to sweep the Spanish Main from end to
end. It cannot now be very long before one gets news of them, and
indeed, I confidently look forward to seeing them come sailing into
Plymouth Sound ere long, loaded down with treasure."
"God grant that it may be so," responded Mrs Saint Leger. "Yet how can
I help being fearful and anxious when I think of those daring men
thousands of miles away from home and kindred, surrounded as it were by
enemies, and with nought to keep them but their courage and the strength
of their own right arm? And where there is fighting--as fighting there
must be when English and Spaniards come face to face--some must be
slain, and why not our Hubert among them? For the boy is hot-headed,
and brave even to recklessness."
"Ay," assented George, "that's true. But 'tis the brave and reckless
ones that stand the best chance in a fight, for their very courage doth
but inspire the enemy with terror, so that he turns and flees from them.
Besides, our lads are fighting God's battle against bigotry, idolatry,
and fiendish cruelty as exemplified in the tortures inflicted upon poor
souls in the hellish Inquisition, and 'twould be sinful and a
questioning of God's goodness to doubt that He will watch over them who
are waging war upon His enemies."
"Yea, indeed, that is true," agreed Mrs Saint Leger. "And yet, so weak
is our poor human faith that there are times when my heart is sick with
fear as to what may be happening to my dear ones. But here is Lucy with
the supper. Draw up and sit down, my son. I'll warrant that the
enjoyment of a good roast capon and ale of thy mother's own brewing will
be none the less for the sea fare upon which thou hast lived of late."
So mother and son sat down to table again for the first time in many
months. And while they ate George regaled his mother with a recital of
some of the most moving happenings of the voyage just ended, including,
naturally, a detailed account of the brush with Barbary pirates, the
death of Matthews, the pilot, and George's own promotion to the post
thus rendered vacant; to all of which Mrs Saint Leger listened eagerly,
devouring her son with her eyes as he made play with capon and pasty and
good nut-brown ale, talking betwixt mouthfuls and eliciting from his
absorbed audience of one, now a little exclamation of horror at the tale
of some tragic occurrence or narrow escape, and anon a hearty laugh at
the recounting of some boyish frolic and escapade in one or another of
the foreign cities visited in the course of the voyage. Supper over,
they drew their chairs up before the fire and continued their talk,
asking and answering questions in that delightfully inconsequent fashion
which is possible only between near and dear relatives after a long
separation. So the time passed quickly until the hour-glass in the hall
marked ten and the maid brought in candles; whereupon, before separating
for the night, mother and son knelt down together and rendered heartfelt
thanks to God for the safe return of the one wanderer and offered up
equally heartfelt petitions for the preservation of the other, as folk
were not ashamed to do in those grand old days when belief in God's
interest in the welfare of His creatures was a living, virile thing, and
when a man's religion was as intimate a part of his daily life as were
his meat and drink.
CHAPTER TWO.
HOW ROBERT DYER BROUGHT NEWS OF DISASTER.
The following morning found George Saint Leger early astir; for the
unloading of the _Bonaventure's_ rich cargo was now to begin, and he
must be there to superintend and do his share of the work. And be sure
that Mr Richard Marshall and his head clerk were also there to take
note of each bale and cask and package as it was hoisted out of the hold
and carried across the wharf into the yawning doorway of the warehouse;
for while the worthy merchant fully trusted those of his servants who
had proved themselves to be trustworthy, he held that there was no
method of keeping trustworthy servants faithful so efficacious as
personal oversight; he maintained that the man who tempted another to
dishonesty by throwing opportunities for dishonesty in his way, was as
guilty and as much to blame as the one who succumbed to temptation;
therefore he kept his own soul and the souls of his employes clean by
affording the latter as little occasion as might be for stumbling.
Captain Burroughs--his rheumatism more troublesome than ever--was also
present, with his hands full of invoices and bills of lading to which he
referred from time to time for information in reply to some question
from Mr Marshall; and soon the winches began to creak and the main
hatch to disgorge its contents, while a crowd of those curious and idle
loafers who, like the poor, are always with us, quickly gathered upon
the wharf to gapingly watch the process of unloading the cargo.
That process was much more deliberately carried out then than it is in
the present day of hurry and rush, steam and electricity; therefore it
was not until nearly a fortnight had elapsed that the last bale had been
hoisted out of the _Bonaventure's_ hold and safely stored in Mr
Marshall's warehouse. Mr Marshall had definitely announced his
intention to lay up the ship until the Spanish embargo should be raised.
And it was on that same night that, as George and his mother sat
chatting by the fire after supper, the maid Lucy entered the room with
the intimation that a strange, foreign-looking man, apparently a sailor,
stood without, craving speech with Mistress Saint Leger.
Mrs Saint Leger's apprehensions with regard to the safety of Hubert,
her elder son, temporarily allayed by George's optimism, were quick to
respond to the slightest hint or suggestion of disaster; the mere
mention, therefore, of a man, foreign-looking and of sailorly aspect,
seeking speech with her, and especially at such an untimely hour, was
sufficient to re-awaken all her unformed fears into full activity. Her
lips blanched and a look of terror leapt into her eyes as she sprang to
her feet, regarding the somewhat stolid Lucy as though the latter were
some apparition of ill omen.
"A sailor, say you, strange, and foreign-looking?" she gasped. "What
for mercy's sake can such a man want with me at this time of night? Did
you ask the man his name?"
"No, ma'am, I--I--didn't," stammered the maid, astonished at her
mistress's unusual agitation, and afraid that in omitting to make the
enquiry she had been guilty of some terrible oversight; "he said--he--"
But at this point George intervened. To him, as to his mother, the
circumstance had at once conveyed a suggestion of ominousness, a hint of
possible evil tidings. Like his mother, he had risen to his feet as the
thought of what this visit might mean dawned upon him. But, unlike Mrs
Saint Leger, he was accustomed to act quickly in the presence of sudden
alarms, and now he laid his hand reassuringly upon his mother's
shoulder, as he said soothingly:
"There, there, sit you down, mother; there's nought to be frightened
about, I'll warrant. Sit you down, again; and I'll go out and speak to
the fellow. Maybe 'tis but some sneaking, snivelling beggar-man who,
believing you to be alone here, hopes to terrify you into giving him a
substantial alms."
So saying, with another reassuring pat upon his mother's shoulder, the
lad stalked out of the room, pushing the bewildered maid before him, and
made his way to the front door, where Mrs Saint Leger, acutely
listening, presently heard him in low converse with the stranger. The
conversation continued for a full ten minutes, and then Mrs Saint
Leger's apprehensions were sharpened by hearing footsteps--her son's and
another's--approaching the room in which she sat. A moment later the
door was flung open, and George, pale beneath his tan, re-appeared,
ushering in a thick-set, broadly-built man of medium height, whose long,
unkempt hair and beard, famine-sharpened features, and ragged clothing
told an unmistakable tale of privation and suffering.
"Mother," said George--and as he spoke his lips quivered slightly in
spite of his utmost efforts to keep them steady--"this man is Robert
Dyer of Cawsand, one of the crew of the _Judith_, Captain Drake's ship,
just arrived from the Indies, and he brings us bad news--not the worst,
thank God," he interjected hurriedly as he noted Mrs Saint Leger's
sudden access of pallor--"but bad enough for all that, and it is
necessary that you should hear it. The expedition has been a failure,
thanks to Spanish treachery; the loss to the English has been terribly
heavy, and several of the men are missing."
For a few moments the poor distracted mother strove vainly to speak;
then, clutching George's arm tightly, she moaned: "Well, why do you
pause, George? Tell me the worst, I pray you. I can bear it. Do not
keep me in suspense. Do you wish me to understand that Hubert is
killed--or is he among the missing? He must be one or the other, I
know, or he would be here now to tell his own story."
"He is a prisoner in the hands of the Spaniards, mother," answered
George. "But be of good cheer," he continued, as Mrs Saint Leger
staggered like one struck and he sprang to her assistance--"sit you
down, mother, and let Dyer here tell us his story. I have only just
heard the barest outline of it. Perhaps when we have heard it all it
may not seem so bad. And don't you fear for Hubert, dearie; 'tis true
that the Spaniards have got him, but they won't dare to hurt him, be you
assured of that; and likely enough he will have escaped by this time.
Now, Dyer, come to an anchor, man, and tell us all that befell. And
while you're talking we'll have some supper prepared for you."
"Well, madam, and Mr Garge, there ain't so very much to tell," answered
Dyer, seating himself in the chair which Saint Leger had indicated. "Of
course you do both know--all Plymouth knows--that we sailed away from
this very port a year ago come the second o' last October. Six ships
strong, we was, well manned, and an abundance o' munitions o' war of
every kind, even to shore-artillery. And we had Cap'n John Hawkins for
our admiral and Frank Drake for our pilot, so what more could a body
want?
"We made a very good passage to the Canary Islands, which was our first
rondyvoo; and from there, a'ter we'd wooded and watered afresh, and set
up our rigging, we sailed for the Guinea coast. On our way there, avore
ever we got so far south as Cape Blanc, we captured a Portingal caravel;
pickin' up another of 'em a little way to the nor'ard of Cape Verde.
This here last one was called the _Grace a Dios_, she were a very fine
new ship of a hunderd and fifty ton--and we kept 'em both because, bein'
light-draught ships, the admiral knowed they'd be useful for goin' in
over bar on the Coast, where the mouths of the rivers be always shallow.
"Well, in due time--I forget the exact date, now--we arrived on the
Coast, and there we stayed for a matter o' three months, huntin' blacks
and Portingals; goin' into the rivers in the caravels, landin' parties,
attackin' native villages, and makin' prisoners o' all the strongest and
most likely-lookin' men and women--with a good sprinklin' o' childer,
too--and cuttin' out the Portingal caravels wherever we found 'em. Ah!
that work o' boardin' and cuttin' out the Portingals! It was fine and
excitin', and suited Cap'n Drake and Mr Saint Leger a sight better than
nagur huntin'. They was always the first to come forward for such work,
and never was two men so happy as they was when news was brought of a
caravel bein' near at hand.
"Three months we stayed on that there terrible Guinea coast, and durin'
that time we got together over five hunderd nagurs, besides takin',
plunderin', and burnin' more than a dozen caravels. Then, wi' pretty
nigh half of our company down wi' fevers and calentures taken on the
Coast and in the rivers, we all sailed for the Spanish Main. A matter
o' seven weeks it took us to cross to t'other side o' the world,
although we had fair winds and fine weather all the way, as is usual on
the voyage from Africa to the Indies. Then we arrived at a lovely
island called Margarita, one o' the Spaniards' Indian possessions, where
I was told they find pearls. Here we found several storehouses crammed
with food of all sorts and great casks o' wine intended for distribution
among the ports of the Spanish Main; and here our admiral decided to re-
victual the fleet. And mun did, too, in spite of the objections o' the
Spaniards, who vowed that they had no food to spare. We took from 'em
all that we wanted, but we paid for it in good Portingal goold, seein'
that we was no pirates, but good honest traders.
"Then we sailed westward again, past La Guaira and the great wall of
mountains that tower aloft behind it far into the deep blue sky. On the
third day after leavin' Margarita we sailed into as snug a little
harbour as you'd wish to see. And there we stayed for a matter o' two
months, landin' our sick and our blacks, clearin' out our ships' holds,
cleanin', careenin', scrapin', paintin', overhaulin', and refittin'
generally, the blacks helpin' us willin'ly enough when we made 'em
understand what we wanted done.
"By the time that we'd a done everything that we wanted to, our sick had
got well again--all except four what died in spite of us--and then we
put to sea again, coastin' along the Main and callin' in here and there
to trade our blacks for goold and pearls. But at first the trade
weren't at all good; and bimeby the admiral lost patience wi' the silly
fules and vowed he'd make 'em trade wi' us, whether they wanted to or
no; so we in the _Judith_ and another ship were sent round to a place
called La Hacha. When we arrived and made to enter, the forts opened
fire upon us! So we and t'other ship blockaded the place for five days,
sufferin' nothin' to go in or come out; and then along come the admiral
wi' the rest o' the ships, and we got to work in earnest. The shore-
artillery and two hunderd soldiers was landed, the batteries was
stormed, and we took the town, drivin' all the Spaniards out of it; and
be sure that Cap'n Drake and Mr Saint Leger was among the first to get
inside. That was enough for they Spanishers; a'ter that they was ready
enough to trade wi' us; and indeed that same night some of 'em comed
back, bringin' their goold and their pearls with 'em; and avore we left
the place we'd parted wi' no less than two hunderd blacks.
"And so things went on until we'd a sold every black that remained; and
by that time we'd got so much goold and so many pearls that the admiral
was afeard that if we tried to get more we mid lose all, and
accordin'ly, a'ter holdin' a council o' war, it was decided to make for
whoam, and we bore away up north to get into the Gulf Stream to help us
to beat up again' the easterly winds that do blow always in them parts.
But, as it turned out, we couldn't ha' done a worse thing. For we'd no
sooner weathered Cape Yucatan than there fell upon us two o' the most
awful gales that mortal man can pictur', pretty nigh all our canvas was
blowed clean out of the bolt-ropes, some o' the ships was dismasted, the
sea--well, I don't know what I can compare it to, unless 'tis to
mountains, it runned so high; and as for the poor little _Judith_, 'twas
only by the mercy o' God and Cap'n Drake's fine seamanship that she
didn't go straight to the bottom. By the time that them there
hurricanes was over the ships was not much better nor wrecks, and 'twas
useless to think o' makin' the v'yage home in 'em in that condition, so
our admiral made the signal to bear up and run for San Juan de Ulua.
And when we arrived there, if you'll believe me, madam and Mr Garge, we
found no less than twelve big galleons, loaded wi' goold an' silver,
waitin' for the rest o' the Plate fleet and its convoy to sail for Old
Spain! And the very next day the ships as was expected arrived off the
port and found us English in possession!
"Then there was a pretty to-do, you may take my word for 't. Some o'
the cap'ns--Mr Saint Leger and Cap'n Drake among 'em, I believe--was
for attackin' the convoy and takin' the whole o' the Plate fleet; and,
as things turned out, 'twould ha' been better if we'd done it, for,
disabled though our ships were, we could ha' fought at our anchors and
kept the convoy from enterin' the port. But the admiral wouldn't hear
o' it; he kept on declarin' that we was honest traders, and that to
capture the Spanish ships 'd be a hact of piracy which would get us into
no end o' trouble to home, and perhaps bring about war betwixt England
and Spain; and at last t'others give in to mun and let mun have mun's
own way. Then there was goin's to an' fro between our ships and the
shore, and I heard say as that the admiral were negotiatin' wi' the
Viceroy for permission for our ships to stay where they was, and refit;
and at last 'twas agreed that we was to be allowed to so do, provided
that we didn't interfere wi' the Spanish ships.
"That bein' arranged, the rest of the Plate fleet and the convoy sailed
into the harbour and anchored, while we English got to work clearin'
away our wrecked spars, sendin' down yards, and what not. The _Judith_
bein' a small ship, Cap'n Drake took her in and moored her alongside a
wharf upon which we stowed part of our stores and water casks, so 's to
have more room for movin' about on deck; but as for the rest, they'd to
do the best they could while lyin' off to their anchors. And one of the
first things that we did was to transfer all the goold and pearls that
we'd collected to the _Jesus_. Three days we laboured hard at the work
of refittin', and then, when most o' our biggest ships was so completely
dismantled that they hadn't a spar aloft upon which to set a sail, them
treacherous Spaniards, carin' nothin' for their solemn word and
promises, must needs attack us, openin' fire upon us both from the ships
and the forts, while a party o' soldiers came marchin' down to the wharf
especially to attack us of the _Judith's_ crew. When Cap'n Drake see'd
mun comin' he at once ordered all hands ashore; and while he and Mr
Saint Leger and a few more did their best to keep off the soldiers, the
rest of us went to work to put the provisions and water back aboard the
_Judith_. But we'd only about half done our work when a lot more
soldiers comed swarmin' down, and Cap'n Drake sings out for everybody to
get aboard and to cast off the hawsers--for by this time there was nigh
upon five hunderd Spaniards attackin' us, and we could do nothin' again
so many. Seein' so many soldiers comin' again us, some of our chaps got
a bit frighted and took the cap'n at his word by castin' off our shore
fasts at once, without waitin' for everybody to get aboard first. The
consequence was that when all the hawsers had been let go exceptin' the
quarter rope--which I was tendin' to--the Cap'n, Mr Saint Leger, and
about half a dozen more was still on the wharf while--an off-shore wind
happenin' to be blowin' at the time--the ship's head had paid off until
'twas pointing out to sea, while there was about a couple o' fathoms of
space atween the ship's quarter and the wharf. I s'pose that seein'
this, and that there was only a matter o' seven or eight men to oppose
'em, gived the Spaniards courage to make a rush at the Cap'n and his
party; anyway, that's what they did, and for about a couple o' minutes
there was a terrible fight on that wharf, in which three or four men
went down.
"The next thing I noticed, Mr Garge, were your brother layin' about mun
like a very Paladin, fightin' three big Spanish cavaliers single-handed,
and, while I watched, one of 'em aimed a dreadful blow at mun's head wi'
a heavy two-handed soord. Mr Hubert see'd the blow comin' and put up
his soord to guard the head of mun, but the soord broke off clean, close
to the hilt, and there were Mr Hubert disarmed. Then the three
Spaniards that was fightin' mun rushed in afore Mr Hubert could draw
his dagger, seized mun by the arms, and dragged mun away out o' the
fight. And while this were happenin' our Cap'n were so busy that I
don't believe he ever see'd that Mr Hubert were took prisoner. Then I
sang out to mun--`Cap'n Drake,' says I, `if you don't come aboard this
very minute,' says I, `the ship'll break adrift and go off and leave ye
behind.' The Cap'n took a look round, see'd that evrybody else but
hisself was either cut down or took prisoner, and, flinging his soord in
the face of a man that tried to stop mun, leaped clean off quay, seized
the hawser in 's hands as mun jumped, and come aboard that way, hand
over hand. Then I let go the hawser and jumped to the helm, and we
runned off among t'other ships, where we let go our anchor.
"Now by this time the fight were ragin' most furious everywhere, some of
the Spanish havin' got under way and runned our ships aboard. But they
didn't gain much by that move, for though they sank three of our ships,
we sank four of them and reduced their flag-ship to a mere wreck, while
their losses in men must ha' been something fearful. But although we
gived 'em such a punishin', we, bein' the weakest, was gettin' the worst
o' it; and bimeby, when they took to sendin' fireships down to attack
us, the admiral thought 'twas time to make a move, so he signalled that
such ships as could get to sea was to do so. Accordin'ly, all that was
left of us cut our cables, and made sail as best we could, the _Jesus_
leadin' the way, we in the _Judith_ goin' next, and the _Minion_ comin'
last and coverin' our retreat.
"But that didn't end our troubles by any manner o' means, for we'd
scarcely got clear of the land when the _Jesus_ was found to be so
riddled and torn wi' shot that we only just had time to take her crew
off of her when down she went, takin' with her all the treasure that
we'd gathered together durin' the voyage. Then we parted company wi'
the _Minion_, and whether she's afloat, or whether she's gone to the
bottom, God only knows, for I hear that she haven't arrived home up to
now."
"And when did the _Judith_ arrive?" demanded George, when it became
evident that Dyer had brought his story to an end.
"Not above two hours agone," answered the man. "We got in a'ter dark,
and come to an anchor in the Hamoaze; and so anxious were the cap'n to
report that he wouldn't wait till to-morrer, but must needs have a boat
lowered and come ashore to see Cap'n William Hawkins to-night. And he
bade me walk over here to see madam, give her the news, and say, wi' his
dutiful respec's, that if time do permit he will call upon her some time
to-morrer, to answer any questions as she may wish to ast him."
"One question which I shall certainly want to ask him will be how it
came about that he was so careful to provide for his own safety without
making any effort to rescue my son," remarked Mrs Saint Leger, in a
low, strained voice.
"Nay, madam, by your leave, you must not ask mun that," answered Dyer.
"I, who saw everything, saw that the cap'n could not ha' rescued Mr
Hubert, had he tried ever so. He could not ha' saved Mr Hubert, and if
he'd been mad enough to try he'd only ha' been took hisself. Moreover,
from what he've a said since 'tis clear to me that he thought Mr Hubert
had got safe aboard, or he'd never ha' left mun behind. I knowed that
by the grief o' mun when he was first told that Mr Hubert had been
took."
"What do you suppose the Spaniards will do with my brother?" impulsively
asked George, and could have bitten his tongue out the next moment for
his imprudence in asking such a question in his mother's presence. For
Dyer was a blunt, plain-spoken, ignorant fellow, without a particle of
tact, as young Saint Leger had already seen, and he knew enough of
Spanish methods to pretty shrewdly guess what the reply to his question
would be. And before he could think of a plan to avert that reply, it
came.
"Well, Mr Garge," answered Dyer, "you and I do both know how the
Spaniards do usually treat their prisoners. I do reckon they must ha'
took a good twenty or thirty o' our men, and I don't doubt but what
they'll clap the lot into th' Inquisition first of all. Then they'll
burn some of 'em at an _auto-da-fe_; and the rest they'll send to the
galleys for life."
"What sayest thou?" screamed Mrs Saint Leger, starting to her feet and
wringing her hands as she stared at Dyer in horror, as though he were
some dreadful monster. "The Inquisition, the _auto-da-fe_, the galleys
for my son? George! I conjure you, on your honour as an Englishman,
tell me, is it possible that these awful things can be true?"
For a second or two George hesitated, considering what answer he should
return to his mother's frenzied question. He knew that the horrors
suggested by Dyer were true, and the knowledge that his brother was
exposed to such frightful perils--might even at that precise instant be
the victim of them--held him tongue-tied, for how could he confirm this
blunt-spoken sailor's statement, knowing that if he did so he would be
condemning his dearly-loved mother to an indefinite period of heart-
racking anguish and anxiety that might well end in destroying her reason
if indeed it did not slay her outright? He was as strictly
conscientious as most of his contemporaries, but he could not bring
himself to condemn his mother to the dreadful fate he foresaw for her if
he told her the bald, unvarnished truth. He knew, by what he was
himself suffering at that moment, what his mother's mental agony would
be if he strictly obeyed her, therefore he temporised somewhat by
replying:
"Calm yourself, mother dear, calm yourself, I beg you. There is no need
for us to be unduly anxious about Hubert. I will not attempt to conceal
from you that he is in evil case, poor dear fellow--all Englishmen are
who fall into the hands of the Spaniards, especially if they happen to
be Protestants--and I greatly fear me that some of those who were taken
with Hu may be in grave peril of those dangers of which Dyer has spoken.
But not Hubert. Hubert was an officer, and it is very rare for even
Spaniards to treat captive officers with anything short of courtesy. I
fear that our dear lad may have to endure a long term of perhaps
rigorous imprisonment; he may be condemned to solitary confinement, and
be obliged to put up with coarse food; but they will scarcely dare to
torture him, still less to condemn him to the _auto-da-fe_. Oh, no,
they will not do that! But while Dyer has been talking, I have been
thinking, and my mind is already made up. Hubert must not be permitted
to languish a day longer in prison than we can help. Therefore I shall
at once set to work to organise an expedition for his rescue, and trust
me, if he does not contrive to escape meanwhile--as he is like enough to
do--I will have him out of the Spaniards' hands in six months from the
time of my departure from Plymouth."
At the outset Dyer had listened to George's speech in open-mouthed
amazement, and some little contempt for what he regarded as the young
man's ignorance; but even his dense intellect could not at last fail to
grasp the inward meaning and intention of the speaker; a lightning flash
of intelligence revealed to him that it was not ignorance but a desire
to spare his mother the anguish of long-drawn-out anxiety and the agony
resulting from the mental pictures drawn by a woman's too vivid
imagination; and forthwith he rose nobly to the exigencies of the
occasion by chiming in with:
"Ay, ay, Mr Garge, you'm right, sir. Trust your brother to get away
from they bloody-minded Spaniards if they gives him half a chance. For
all that we knows he may ha' done it a'ready. And if he haven't, and
you makes up your mind to fit out an expedition to go in search of mun,
take me with ye, sir. I'll sarve ye well as pilot, Mr Garge, none
better, sir. I've been twice to the Indies wi' Cap'n Drake, once under
Cap'n Lovell and now again under Cap'n Hawkins. And I've a grudge to
pay off again' the Spaniards; for at La Hacha they played pretty much
the same trick upon Cap'n Lovell as they did this time upon Cap'n
Hawkins."
"Aha! is that the case?" said George. "Then of course you know the
Indies well?"
"Ay, that do I, sir," answered Dyer, "every inch of 'em; from Barbadoes
and Margarita, all along the coast of the Main right up to San Juan de
Ulua there ain't a port or a harbour that I haven't been into. I do
believe as I knows more about that coast than the Spaniards
theirselves."
"Very well, Dyer," returned George. "In that case you will no doubt be
a very useful man to have, and you may rest assured that, should I
succeed in organising an expedition, I will afford you the opportunity
to go with me. Ah! here comes your supper at last--" as the maid Lucy
appeared with a well-stocked tray--"Draw up, man, and fall to. You must
stay with us to-night--is not that so mother?" And upon receiving an
affirmative nod from his mother the young man continued--"and to-morrow
I will send you over to Cawsand in our own boat."
Whereupon, Dyer, pious seaman that he was, having first given God thanks
for the good food so bountifully set before him, fell upon the viands
with the appetite of a man who has been two months at sea upon less than
half rations, and made such a meal as caused Mrs Saint Leger to open
her eyes wide with astonishment, despite the terrible anxiety on behalf
of her first-born that was tugging at her heart-strings and setting
every nerve in her delicate, sensitive frame a-jangle. And, between
mouthfuls, the seaman did his best to reply to the questions with which
George Saint Leger plied him; for it may as well be set down here at
once that no sooner did the youngster learn the fact of his capture by
the Spaniards than he came to the resolution to rescue Hubert, if rescue
were possible; and, if not, to make the Spaniards pay very dearly for
his death. But to resolve was one thing, and to carry out that
resolution quite another, as George Saint Leger discovered immediately
that he took the first steps toward the realisation of his plan--which
was on the following morning. For he was confronted at the very outset
with the difficulty of finance. He was a lad of rapid ideas, and his
knowledge of seafaring matters, and the Spaniards, had enabled him to
formulate the outlines of a scheme, even while listening to Dyer's
relation of the incidents of Hawkins' and Drake's disastrous voyage.
But he fully recognised, even while planning his scheme, that to