A Gentleman-at-Arms: Being Passages in the Life of Sir Christopher Rudd, Knight

The Rudds, like many another ancient family, have come down in the world, as the saying goes. They no longer live on the toil of others, but work for their own livelihood. They no longer own manors, or follow their feudal lords to court in armour; but here and there about the world, in business, at the Bar, in the Army or administrative offices, they worthily sustain the honour of their name.

The present head of the family cherishes an heirloom, which has descended from father to son through three centuries. It has no commercial value; it would not fetch a shilling in the auction room: indeed, the mere hint of selling it would shock a Rudd. It is a flat leather case, discoloured, frayed at the edges, almost worn out with age. But upon its side may still be seen faint traces of the initials C.R., and within it lies a bundle of faded papers, with the following inscription on the cover:

Certeyn Passages in the Life of Syr Christopher Rudde, knyghte, related by himselfe in the yeare of our Lorde 1641, and written down by his grandsonne Stephen.

It is easy to understand why this old manuscript is treasured by the Rudd family. The "certain passages" in their ancestor's life are interesting in themselves, as narratives of romantic adventure in various countries of the old world and the new. They give incidental pictures of remarkable scenes and personages, and throw not a little light on the manners and conditions of bygone times. Above all, they seem to me to portray an English gentleman of the great age of Elizabeth—a gentleman who had a proper pride in his country without scorning others, and was ever ready to draw his sword chivalrously in the cause of freedom and justice.

The grandson, Stephen Rudd, professes to have written these stories as they were told him by his grandfather; but I cannot help suspecting that he dealt with them somewhat as the parliamentary reporters of the present day are said to deal with the speeches delivered on the floor of the House—arranging, giving form and coherence. You can detect in the style echoes of the prose of Elizabeth's day, but it is on the whole less coloured, less vigorous, more formal, in the manner of the Caroline writers; and it has not the unconstraint of a man talking at ease in his armchair. The events related are separated by wide intervals of time, and Stephen has filled up the gaps with brief accounts of the course of public affairs, as well as of the personal history of his grandfather. In printing these along with Sir Christopher's stories, I have thought it best, for the sake of uniformity, to modernise the spelling: there would be no object in perplexing the reader with such antique forms, for instance, as beesyde, woordes and tunge.

Sir Christopher's first story plunges at once into an adventure of his seventeenth year, and it is perhaps advisable to preface it with a few particulars of his earlier life. He was born, it appears, on July 15, 1571, the son of a country gentleman who owned a manor on the outskirts of the New Forest. This was the year of the discovery of the Norfolk plot against the life of Queen Elizabeth, and the opening of a period of great moment in the history of England and Europe. The boy was six years old when Drake set sail on his famous voyage to the Pacific; and during the next few years he must have heard many stirring events talked about in his father's hall—Alva's persecutions in the Netherlands, the assassination of the Prince of Orange, the buccaneering exploits of the English sea-dogs. At the age of twelve he entered William of Wykeham's great school at Winchester, and we may imagine how eagerly he discussed with his school fellows such items of exciting news as filtered through from the greater world. It is not surprising that his imagination was fired, that the lust of adventure gripped him, and that at last the call proved irresistible, bringing his schooldays to an abrupt end, and luring him forth to a career of activity and enterprise.

HERBERT STRANG

THE FIRST PART

CHRISTOPHER RUDD'S ADVENTURE IN
HISPANIOLA, AND THE STRANGE STORY OF
CAPTAIN Q.

headpiece to First Part

I was a lank youth of sixteen years when I fell into the hands of the Spaniards of Hispaniola—an accident wherein my grandam saw the hand of Providence chastising a prodigal son; but of that you shall judge.

In the summer of the year 1587, riding from school home by way of Southampton, I was told there of a brigantine then fitting out, to convey forth a company of gentlemen adventurers to the Spanish Main in quest of treasure. Sir Francis Drake had lately come home from spoiling the Spaniards' ships in the harbour of Cadiz, and the ports of our south coast were ringing with the tale of his wondrous doings; and I, being known for a lad of quick blood and gamesome temper, was resolved to go where Francis Drake had gone aforetime, and gain somewhat of the wealth then lying open to adventurers bold to pluck the King of Spain's beard. Wherefore one fine night I stole from my bed-chamber, hied me to the quay at Southampton, and bestowed myself secretly aboard the good ship Elizabeth.

Of my discovery in the hold, and the cuffs I got, and the probation I was put to, and my admission thereafter to the company of gentlemen adventurers, I will say nothing. The Elizabeth made in due time the coast of Hispaniola, and when Hilary Rawdon, the captain, sent a party of his crew ashore to fill their water-casks, I must needs accompany them; 'twas the first land we had touched for two weary months, and I felt a desperate urgency to stretch my legs. And while we were about our business, up comes a posse of Spaniards swiftly out of the woods, and there is a sudden onfall and a sharp tussle, and our party, being outnumbered three to one, is sore discomfited and utterly put to the rout, but not until all save myself and another are slain, and I find myself on my back, with a Spanish bullet in my leg. And you see me now borne away among the victors, and when I am healed of my wound, I learn that I am a slave on the lands of a most noble hidalgo of Spain, one Don Alfonso de Silva de Marabona, and an admiral to boot.

Now I had left home to spoil the Spaniards and with no other intent; wherefore to toil and sweat under a hot sun on the fields of a Spanish admiral, however noble, was no whit to my liking. Moreover, Don Alfonso proved an exceeding hard taskmaster, and bore heavily upon me his prisoner, a thing that was perhaps no cause for wonder, seeing that of all who had suffered when Master Drake sacked San Domingo, he had suffered the most. His mansion had been plundered and burnt; his pride had been wounded by the despite done to his galleons; and when a Spaniard is hurt both in pride and in pocket, he is not like to prove himself a very generous foe. And so I was in a manner the scapegoat for Master Drake's offences, and had in good sooth to smart for it. My noble master made no ado about commanding me to be flogged if he were not content with me; and to rub the juice of lemons, laced with salt and pepper, into the wounds made by the lash, is a marvellous shrewd way (though nowise commendable) of fostering penitence and remorse.

But in this unhappy plight I was not left without a friend. One midday, when I was resting from my toil in the fields, there came to me a spare and sallow boy, somewhat younger than myself, and spoke courteously to me in a kind of French, the which I, being by no means without my rudiments, made shift to understand. I soon perceived that we had a something in common, namely, a heavy and grievous grudge against Don Alfonso de Silva de Marabona, the which became a bond of unity betwixt us. Antonio (so was he named) was nephew to the admiral, and dependent on him—though his father had been a rich man,—by him, moreover, treated with great rigour. Ere long I was well acquainted with Antonio's doleful case. It was eleven years since his father the elder Antonio had sailed away for Spain, being summoned thither about some question of law concerning his estates in Castile. He took with him, in the galleon San Felipe, a store of treasure belonging to his brother the admiral, together with a yet costlier freight for behoof of his Catholic Majesty of Spain. And there was Antonio, a motherless infant of four years, left in his uncle's charge, his father purposing to return for him in the following summer, by the which time he hoped to have set his affairs in order.

The stormy season of the year was at hand when he departed, and divers of his friends had warned him against the perils of the long voyage. But Don Antonio feared the elements less than the French and English rovers who then infested the seas, and he had indeed chosen this time advisedly, for that it was little likely to tempt the pirates from their lairs. It fell out, however, that he had not left port above three days when a great tempest arose, suddenly, as the manner is in those regions, and to the wonted terrors of the tornado was added an earthquake, with fierce rumblings and vast upheavals of the soil, so that the admiral made great lament about his brother and the wealth he had in charge. Don Antonio came no more to Hispaniola; the galleon San Felipe was heard of never more; and his son had remained under the austere governance of Don Alfonso, who showed him no kindness, but ever seemed to look upon him as a burthen. When Antonio came to the age of twelve, he inquired of his uncle whether the estates of his late father would not one day be his; but the admiral made answer that he had long since purchased the property from his brother, who had purposed sometime to quit the island and spend the remnant of his days in Spain.

Such was Antonio's story, as he told it to me. He called his uncle a fiend; as for me, I called him, in the English manner, Old Marrow-bones; we both signified one and the same thing—that we held him in loathing and abhorrence. This was our bond of union, and soon it became our custom to meet daily and rehearse our woes in consort. Antonio was ever careful to keep these our meetings secret, since he knew that, coming perchance to the admiral's ears, they would be deemed a cause of offence, and be punished, beyond doubt, with many stripes.

But to dub your enemy with opprobrious names brings you no contentment, and does him no hurt. In no great while I began to consider of some means whereby I might contrive to slip the leash of my illustrious master. Having made Antonio swear by all his saints that he would not betray me, I took counsel with him; indeed, I essayed to persuade the boy to put all to the hazard, and make his escape with me. But Antonio could not screw his resolution to this pitch. He was content to throw himself with right good-will into the perfecting of my plans. And so it came to pass that one fine day, about sunset, I took French leave (as the saying is) and set off on my lonely way to liberty. I had nothing upon me save my garments, and a long machete (so their knives are called) given me by Antonio; but as Samson slew countless Philistines with the jawbone of an ass, and David laid Goliath low with a pebble from the brook; so I, though I did not liken myself to those heroes of old, yet knew myself to be a fellow-countryman with Francis Drake, and needed no doughtier ensample to inspire me.

Following Antonio's wise and prudent counsel I set my face towards the north-west angle of the island, for the reason that, parted from it by only a narrow strip of sea, there lay the smaller island of Tortuga, where it was possible that some countrymen of my own might be. Tortuga had been at some time a settlement of the Spaniards, but they had now abandoned it, and if an English ship should chance to have put in to water there, or to burn the barnacles off its hull, I might light upon the crew and join myself to them, and so bring my tribulations to an end. And after near a week's trudging—with herbs for my meat and water from the streams for my drink—I came one day to the further shore of Hispaniola, and with great gladness beheld the strange hump-backed island, like a monstrous tortoise floating on the sea, for which cause it was named Tortuga.

A day or two I spent in roaming to and fro, gazing hungrily seawards for a ship. And when none appeared, I bethought me that I should certainly be none the worse conditioned—nay, I might be a great deal the better—if I should cross to the smaller island and there make my abode. Having once been the habitation of Christian folk, methought it would retain some remnants of its former plantations, so that I need not want for food; and of a surety, with a wider expanse of sea before me, I should be in better case to spy a passing vessel than if I remained on Hispaniola. I was minded at first to swim the channel—'twould be no great feat—but, observing at the water's edge a pair of ground-sharks lying in wait for a toothsome meal, I gave up this design very readily, and considered of some safer way.

There were woods growing almost to the shore. To a boy with his mind set on it, and a sharp knife to his hand, the making of a raft is a task of no great labour or hardship. 'Twas the work of two days to lop branches meet for my purpose, strip them, and bind them together with strands of bejuca, a climbing plant of serviceable sort; and on the third day I launched my raft, and oared myself across the still water, being companied by a disappointed shark the better part of the way. I went ashore in some fear and trembling lest I should meet Spaniards, or other hostile men; but I saw no sign of present habitation, and wandered for near a day without lighting on any traces of mankind. But at length in my course I spied a heap of wood ashes, and some rinds of fruit, and a little beyond a broken hen-coop, whereby I knew that men sometimes resorted to the island, as Antonio had said. It came into my mind that my late companions of the Elizabeth had perchance set foot here no long while before me, and I felt a great longing to look on them again. I wondered where they might be, whether they had fought the Spaniards on the Main and gained great treasure, or whether they had given up their quest and sailed away for home.

Some days I spent in solitude, never straying far from the coast, lest I should be out of sight if a ship came near. There was food in plenty—such is the bounty of Providence in those climes; and of nights I ensconced myself in a little hut I built of branches in a nook on the shore.

One evening as I roamed upon the cliff, and with vain longing scanned the sea, on a sudden I espied, moving among the tree trunks on my right hand, a patch of red. In great perturbation of spirit I sprang behind a tree. I had not seen clearly what the object was: it might be a man, it might be a beast. In the wildernesses about the middle of Hispaniola there were, I knew, herds of wild dogs and boars, a terror to human kind; and a fear beset me lest Tortuga also were the haunt of savage creatures, which might come upon me in the night. Meseemed I must at the least resolve my doubts, wherefore I went forward stealthily, bending among creeping plants, skipping from trunk to trunk, straining my eyes for another glimpse of that patch of red. For some little while I sought in vain, and I was in a sweat of apprehension lest I should stumble into danger; but after stalking for near half-an-hour, as I supposed, of a sudden I saw some moving thing among the trees within a hundred paces of me. Even as I watched, a quaint and marvellous figure came forth into a little open space—the form of a man, arrayed from doublet to shoes in garments of bright red. His head was bare; a rapier hung at his side; and as I looked he plucked the weapon by the hilts, and made sundry passes in the air, going from me slowly into the woodland. Never in my life had I beheld a man so oddly apparelled, and to find such an one here, on this lone island of Tortuga, set me athrill with admiration. I deemed that I should have no security of mind until I had learnt somewhat of this stranger, and whether there were others with him; wherefore with stealthy steps I followed him into the woodland, and there, after near losing him, I saw him enter a little hut set in the midst of a narrow laund. From behind a tree I watched the red man. He kindled a fire, and I looked for him to cook his supper; but instead, he laid himself down on a bed of dried grass, so that the smoke from the fire might be carried by the light wind across him, the which in a moment I guessed to be his device for warding off the insects; I had suffered many things from their appetite in the nights I had slept in the woods of Hispaniola.

Seeing that the red man had composed himself to sleep, I returned quietly to my hut on the shore, and when I fell asleep dreamed that I beheld him defending at the rapier's point young Antonio against the whip of the noble admiral Don Alfonso de Silva de Marabona. I rose with the sun and stole back to the woodland, in hope to see the man quit his sleeping-place and to gain some light upon his manner of life and his doings upon this lone island. But the hut was empty; its inhabitant was already astir. Not that day nor for several days after did I set eyes on him again; but one high noon I had a glimpse of him roaming along the cliff, and while I was following, a great way off, he suddenly vanished from my sight as 'twere into the earth.

The numbness of terror seized upon me; I stood fixed to the ground, never doubting (being then but a boy) that 'twas the foul fiend in his very person who had descended into the bowels of the earth. But bethinking me that I had discerned no horns upon his head, nor the tail that was his proper appendage, but, instead, a rapier such as mortal men use, I plucked up heart to draw nigh to the spot where he had disappeared. And when I came to it, 'twas not, as I feared, a chasm, horrid with blue flame and sulphurous fume, but a short, steep path in the cliff-side.

Gathering my courage, I trod with wary steps until I came to a small opening in the cliff. And when I had overcome my tearfulness and ventured to peep in, I was struck with a great amazement, for I beheld a vast vaulted chamber. There came some little daylight into it through fissures in its further wall, and when my eyes had grown accustomed to the twilight, and comprehended the whole space, I saw there, before and below me, the hull of a galleon, lying somewhat upon its side, with a little water about its keel. And as I looked, I beheld the red man how he waded to the vessel, whose side he ascended by a ladder of rope, and then, having gained the deck, he was no more to be seen.

I stood rooted in amazement. I durst not follow the red man further, conceiving that in a land where all save Spaniards were intruders, the odds were that he was of that race, and that to accost him, even to discover myself to him, might put my life in jeopardy. Besides, the man's aspect, and my remembrance of the fierceness of his sword-play as I saw it in my dream, counselled wariness: he was not a man to approach but with caution. Moreover, I was in presence of a great marvel, perceiving no means whereby the galleon had come into this vault. Save for the narrow entrance, and the jagged rents in the walls, the chamber was wholly enclosed; nor was there any passage whereby so great a vessel could have been hauled in from the sea.

Perplexed and bewildered, I waited long, but vainly, for the red man to show himself again. Then, when from sheer weariness and hunger I was in a mind to return to the cliff, I beheld him rise from below deck, descend by the ladder, and, again wading through the water, make towards me. Incontinently and in silence I fled, but halted when I gained the cliff, and lay hid until the man had come forth and gone his way. Whereupon I stole back and descended to the floor of the vault, to quench, if I might, my burning curiosity.

I LAY HID UNTIL THE MAN HAD COME FORTH AND GONE HIS WAY

I walked about the vessel, and when I came to the stern, I started back, smitten with stark amazement. Her name was painted in great golden letters there; I read it: 'twas SAN FELIPE, the name of the galleon wherein the father of my friend Antonio had sailed from San Domingo eleven years since, and which had never more been heard of.

I thought of witchcraft, and questioned whether 'twere not the very work of the devil, for sure no mortal hands had brought the vessel through solid walls into this rock-bound chamber. But the galleon itself was in truth a thing of substance; thee were real shells at the brink of the water; the water itself (when I dipped my finger and licked it) was salt; beyond doubt the vault had communication with the sea. And even while I stood there I perceived the water to be rising; 'twas deeper now than when the man had first waded through it to the vessel. In haste I made the full circuit of the place, searching for an entrance, but in vain. Save the fissures letting in the light, there was not a hole through which a rat might wriggle, nor could I find the passage by which the water came.

In much perplexity, oppressed by the wonder of it, I left the place by and by and returned to my hut. But I could not long withhold myself from the cavern, the which lured and (in a manner) beckoned me by some strange spell. Next day I came again to it, and did as I had seen the red man do—to wit, waded through the water and climbed on board. My feet had scarce touched the deck when I beheld the red form standing in the narrow entrance at the further end of the vault. Quick as thought I slipped into hiding on the lofty poop and there kept watch. The man came aboard and descended by the companion, and a little after I heard the tinkling of metal. I was drawn as by strong cords to learn what he was doing, and crept silently as a mouse after him to the cabin. As I drew near I heard again the clink of metal, and when I came to the door I beheld the man kneeling before an open chest, gloating over it, plunging his hands into it, bathing them in the pieces of eight that filled it to the brim.

I BEHELD THE MAN KNEELING BEFORE AN OPEN CHEST, GLOATING OVER IT, PLUNGING HIS HANDS INTO IT

Spellbound, I stood and gazed. This discovery did but deepen the wonder. I questioned whether this were Antonio's father, who had never sailed to Spain at all, but by some strange means, belike with the help of demons, had brought the vessel hither. And then, as I mused, the red man seemed to become aware by some subtle sense that he was not alone. Suddenly he turned his head, espied me, sprang to his feet, and, whipping out his rapier, leapt with a fierce cry towards me. I turned to flee, being unarmed save for my machete, the which was no match for a rapier. But I was a thought too late. The red man was upon my heels ere I could slip overboard, crying out upon me in words which I was too busy saving my life to heed.

Then began a hot chase round the deck of the galleon, the which might have continued until the pursuer, being the elder, became exhausted, had not I espied, in my running, a half-pike lying over against the bulwarks. This I snatched up, and put myself in a posture of defence. "Voleur! voleur!" cried the red man, glaring at me; and now I had certainty he was no Spaniard. We fought, and doubtless I had fared ill but for my youth and the exercise I had had in this very opposition of pike against sword upon the voyage in the Elizabeth. I was but sixteen; the Frenchman wore the grave aspect of a man of fifty; and though he fought as one well practised in the handling of his weapon, 'twas with a stiffness and want of sureness that bespoke disuse.

Yet 'twas a desperate fight. Once and again I came very near to lose my life, and escaped the Frenchman's point solely by my nimbleness. Twice, indeed, the weapon found my flesh; there was blood upon my sleeve. And then came my opportunity. The Frenchman in lunging at me over-reached himself, and I brought my pike down with all my strength upon his arm. His rapier fell to the deck, and before he could recover himself I sprang upon him, and, by a trick of wrestling I had learnt in bouts at our country fairs, threw him upon his back.

And there were we two, he stretched on the deck, I pinning him down, and both of us breathing hard, and gazing each into the other's eyes. Then I spoke in French: what I said I know not; but he smiled, a vacant smile that made me sorry I had hurt him.

"Thou art one of my children," he said. "How didst thou escape?"

By this, and the strangeness of his smile, I knew that his wits were wandering, and deemed it best to humour him.

"Yes, one of your children," I made answer, understanding the word enfants as doubtless he intended, as meaning his company, or crew. "You were mistaken, sir; and I hope I have not broken your arm."

"It is bruised, not broken," said the man, lifting it and smiling upon me again. "I do not remember thy name, but thou shalt be my corporal."

"Wherein I am mightily favoured," said I. "Marvellously, too, I have forgotten your name, mon Capitaine."

"My name!" he said, in manifest puzzlement. "My name!" And then, smiling once more, he said, "I cannot tell. It is so long, so long since I heard it. My children called me Captain, but that was before the storm. I forget many things; my children left me; they were reft from me by the storm; they died—all but you; and I cannot remember your name! They called me Captain; and in truth I am Captain, by the choice and election of the great Condé. Yes, the great Condé made me Captain, a stripling from Quimperlé."

"Captain Q," said I, on the spur of the moment.

He looked puzzled; then the same smile, like the empty smile of a babe, beamed upon his face, and he said—

"Captain Q; and thou shalt be Corporal R. Is it not so?"

"And so it is," I said. "My name is Rudd; I am an Englishman."

"And we will fight the Spaniards together, shall we not? They must never get my gold—never!"

"Indeed they shall not!" I replied. "And now let us go out into the open, and I will bathe your arm at a brook. 'Tis pity we did not remember each other sooner."

"Ah, but it is such a long time!" said Captain Q.

We went out together, and after I had bathed his arm ('twas bruised from elbow to wrist) the Captain invited me to his hut, and to a share of his dinner of herbs.

Such was the strange beginning of a friendship that endured for near forty years. Though he was by so much my elder, he dealt with me as though I had been his brother. We roamed the shore together, together fished and snared animals in the woods, and would have shared the same lodging but that I preferred to keep my little hut on the shore, where I had fresher air and was within close call of any ship that should chance to pass in the night. Little by little I pieced together the story of the rock-girt galleon and of Captain Q. He could not talk in orderly sequence for long together, but whatsoever the subject of our discourse, he would break off to prattle of his childhood in the little village of Quimperlé, and of his youth and manhood to the time when destiny brought him to Tortuga. He was a Huguenot, and had fought under Condé at St. Denis, and under Admiral Coligny at Jarnac. After the dread day of St. Bartholomew he fled from France, and became a corsair in his own vessel, haunting the coasts of the Spanish Main. One day he fell in with the galleon San Felipe, and took it after a long fight. His own ship being small, he put his crew aboard the galleon, and the crew and company of the galleon upon his ship, and then sailed away for Tortuga, designing to land there and divide the spoil. And his little vessel, with the Spaniards on board, had gone down before his very eyes, having received sore damage in the action.

Before the San Felipe made Tortuga she was caught in a great storm, which swept upon her suddenly and sent her masts by the board. During a lull she was warped into a cove on the Tortuga coast, and there refitted. Then, as she was being towed out, all hands busy in the work, the sea was cast up by a great earthquake; the cliffs on either hand were upheaved and flung sheer upon the vessel, killing outright every man upon it and in the boats save only the Captain and two or three beside. The Captain was struck on the head by a fragment of rock, and thrown senseless to the deck. (And here, as he told the story, he lifted his long, grizzling locks and showed a great seam upon his skull.) When he came to himself all was at first mere blankness to him. He got upon his feet, lost in amaze to behold the galleon encompassed by a vault of rock, and tended the few men that had survived the cataclysm, but they lingered for a little and then all died, leaving him alone.

Little by little the past came back to him, and he was not aware of any change in himself save that his memory played him tricks. But I perceived that the shock and the blow on the head had done his intellects more harm than he knew. He had long fits of silence, wherein he would sit and gaze vacantly out to sea, or would march with drawn sword into the woodland, seeking an enemy that had come to steal his gold. Other whiles he would weave baskets of grass, humming little songs, or babbling in the manner of children. He never ceased to regard me as one of his whilom crew, and in my pity I said nought to undeceive him.

He knew not how long he had dwelt upon the island. I asked him whether he had been alone all the time, and why he had not discovered himself to the French and English pirates who had doubtless sometimes come ashore.

He smiled cunningly, and said, "Could I trust them? They were not my friends. Say that I told them of the ship, and the great treasure it contained, think you they would not have desired it for their own, and taken it from me, and left me poor? I trusted La Noue" (his thoughts were straying to his youth and the siege of La Rochelle): "all men trusted him. He was saved at Jarnac."

And then he fell a-musing. At another time he told me that he had been minded once to join a party that had landed, telling them nothing, with intent to return at some convenient season for his treasure. But he feared lest during his absence it should be discovered, and he might return only to find that the vessel had been stripped bare. The treasure was the sole thing he clung to; he could not bring himself to part from it even for a day; once a day at the least he descended into the cabin and feasted his eyes on the great store of gold and jewels. He had become a miser. And so he carefully shunned such men as had come ashore; and once he had been near to starving, when a crew encamped beneath the cliff wherein was the entrance to his cavern, and remained there for several days, he not daring to issue forth for food, lest he should be seen.

I marvelled often that the Captain never showed any distrust of me. He took me often into the cabin, and sometimes set me to count the money piece by piece, and to display the jewels on the lids of the chests. Indeed, he took, methought, a childish pleasure in thus exhibiting his wealth, and when the precious things were all set in array before him, he would gaze from them to me with a simple pride and contentation which I found infinitely moving.

Thus many days passed. I looked often out to sea for a friendly ship, but none touched on the island, and those that sailed by were Spanish built, and I durst not hail them.

One night a great storm arose. Rain fell in floods, thunder roared all around, the sky was by moments ablaze with lightning such as I had never seen. Driven from my hut, I wended my way toilsomely through the blinding torrents to the cavern, and took shelter for the remainder of the night with Captain Q on board the galleon. Towards morning the fury of the storm abated, but the wind was still high, and when we left our refuge and stood on the cliff, so that the sunbeams might dry our drenched garments, we espied a ship fast on the rocks a little distance from shore. The sea was tempestuous: mighty waves smote and battered upon the vessel, and I perceived very clearly that she was fast going to pieces.

While we stood watching, and pitying the poor wights gathered upon deck, a man sprang overboard with a rope, and struck out for the land, the waves buffeting him sorely, dashing over him, so that many times he seemed to have sunk to the bottom. Stirred by the spectacle, the Captain put off his caution and timorousness, and stepped forth from behind the rock where hitherto he had stood at gaze. His red garb flashed upon the eye of the swimmer, and methought I heard a despairing cry for help. On the instant I ran down to the shore, with Captain Q at my side. Half witless as he was in general, the Captain had all his faculties at this moment of great need. With me he plunged to his waist into the sea, with no less calmness than a man might wade a brook, and caught the swimmer as he was on the point of sinking. And as we hauled him safe ashore, I lifted my voice in a shout of joy: for the half-drowned seaman was none other than Richard Ball, boatswain of my own ship, the Elizabeth.

HE CAUGHT THE SWIMMER AS HE WAS ON THE POINT OF SINKING

"Why, Dick, man," I cried, "'tis you!"

"God bless 'ee!" panted the man, and then, unable to speak more, he pointed to the wreck, and seemed to urge that something should be done for his messmates there.

And now Captain Q once more showed the mettle of a man. Catching up the rope that was looped about the boatswain's body, he called to me to help him to lash it about a rock; and when this was done, the crew and the adventurers came along it one by one, hand over hand, from the vessel, until all, to the number of thirty-seven, were safe on shore. Joyously I greeted them, calling each man by name. Hilary Rawdon, the captain, came the last; and he had but set his feet upon the strand when the hapless vessel fell apart, and was swept away upon the waves.

Groans and cries of lamentation broke from the shipwrecked mariners; their grief at the loss of their vessel for a time outweighed all thankfulness for their escape from death. But Hilary clapped me on the back, and wrung my hand, and cried—

"Gramercy, lad, but 'tis good to see thee once again. Verily I believed thee dead, and what was I to say to thy good folk at home?"

And then we fell a-talking eagerly, and the other adventurers flocked about us, desiring to know what had befallen me since the day when I went ashore on Hispaniola and returned not. And I was so rapt with joy at the sight of my friends that I laughed, and for sheer gladness greeted them again by name—"Tom Hawke, old friend!" and "Harry Loveday, my bawcock!"—and was so possessed by my ecstasy that I forgot Captain Q until Hilary recalled me to the present with a question—

"And who is our blood-red friend, old lad?"

I swung myself about. The Frenchman was gone.

"'Tis Captain Q," I said, and was about to tell more, when I caught myself up, in doubt of what the Captain would say if his secret were disclosed. Having trusted me, peradventure he would deem himself betrayed if I should make any revelation. 'Twas borne upon me that I must needs consult with him before telling any whit of his story.

"Methinks your Captain Kew is of a backward disposition, seeing that he hath departed without our thanks," said Hilary. "We must e'en go after him, my lad. But let us hear all that hath happed to thee since we gave thee up for dead."

I told how I was taken prisoner, and of my captivity and servitude under Don Alfonso de Silva de Marabona, and Tom Hawke, in his boyish way, instantly caught at the name, and wished he might live to pluck Old Marrow-bones by the beard. Then I told of my escape and journey to Tortuga, where I had been, as I guessed, a matter of a month.

"And your Captain Kew, what of him?" asked Hilary. "Is he of the Kews of Ditchingham, and how came he here?"

And I saw that the secret must come out. If I did not myself tell it, my friends would certainly not rest until they had discovered it for themselves, and 'twas not unlike that Captain Q would fare very ill at their hands, and lose all the treasure whereby he set such store. Better that his story should be told by one who had fellow-feeling for him than that all should be left to chance. So I took Hilary Rawdon aside and acquainted him with my discoveries.

"Why, 'tis he that is the thief," cried Hilary when he had heard all. "We have as good a right to the treasure as he."

"Some of it belongs by right to Antonio de Marabona, whom his uncle has defrauded," I replied.

"Tuts, lad, in this part of the world it belongs to them that can take it. Did we not sail hither, I ask you, in quest of treasure? Have we not lost men and suffered shipwreck in this very adventure against the Queen's enemies? Should we not have captured this very galleon had we come but eleven years ago? Is not your answer 'Yes,' and 'Yes,' and 'Yes'?"

He looked at me with triumph. Certainly there was no gainsaying his reasoning, though the third of his questions had a smack of inconsequence that bid for laughter. But I made a condition, as seemed to me just.

"Give me your word," I said, "that Captain Q shall suffer no hurt, and shall have a fair share of the treasure. As for Antonio, I fear me he must suffer for having been born a Spaniard."

"He is no worse off than he was," said Hilary. "The galleon, as he believes, lies at the bottom of the sea; and I trow if you returned to him, and brought him here, and restored to him what was once his, Tom Hawke or Harry Loveday, or one of the mariners, would incontinently knock him on the head (being a Spaniard), and all be as before. And as for Captain Q, 'tis the fortune of war, my lad; we take from him what he himself took."

"Yet 'tis by his help that you, and Tom Hawke, and Harry Loveday, and all the mariners, are this moment alive," I said.

"True, old lad," said he, "and we must not forget it. But come, let us wend to this wondrous vault of his, and see with our own eyes the marvel you tell us of."

With us we took only Hawke and Loveday, leaving the mariners to their devices. This was at my wish, for I feared lest the men, if they in their present distress should learn of rich treasure so close at hand, should forget gratitude and discipline, and leap like hungry wolves upon their prey. They were good seamen, and honest souls withal, but lawless and ill-taught, and possessed with a marvellous scorn of men of other race. And now they stood upon the beach and bemoaned their fate, and cursed the day when they sailed out of Southampton on this ill-starred and bootless quest.

We four went on to the cavern. Captain Q seemed to have expected us, for when we came to the entrance, there was he, sword in hand, ready to dispute our advance. Tom Hawke, a wild young spirit, was for rushing upon him there and then, and beating him down by main force, and indeed he stepped forward to cross swords with the Frenchman. But I could not endure that my friend should be dealt with thus, and calling Tom Hawke back (who indeed already repented of his discourtesy), I proposed that we should humour the Frenchman—call him Captain, place ourselves at his orders, and promise to attempt to make a passage for the vessel, so that he might once more sail the seas with a merry crew.

"I'faith, a right excellent conceit!" cried Hilary. "I salute you, Captain Q," he added, with a profound bow. "Unfold to him our purpose, Kitt."

And I went before them and spoke to the Captain, and when he understood he smiled with pleasure, dropped his point, and, with a commanding gesture that mightily became him, bade us bring up his new company to set about the work.

"Oui, certainement, mon Capitaine," said Hilary; and when by and by the men, in sober mood, came up, and the matter was put to them, "Ay, ay, sir," cried Richard Ball, the boatswain; "Ay, ay, sir," the men chimed in, and the Captain led us into the cavern.

Cries of astonishment broke from the men's lips when they saw that miracle of Nature, and of admiration as they walked around about the galleon and marked her noble lines.

"A rare craft indeed!" said Hilary. "She is worth a fortune to us, Kitt, even without the treasure she contains. And that same treasure, my lad—I yearn to dip my fingers into it."

"Wait; let me bargain with Captain Q," I said, and I followed the Frenchman up the ladder to the deck, and stood long in talk with him. When I returned to my friends I told them that the Captain was willing to share a great portion of his gold among them, if they would bring the vessel to the sea and rig her for a voyage.

"Vive le Capitaine Q!" cried Hilary, and the whole company broke forth into lusty cheers. The Captain's eyes gleamed with pleasure; he called them his children, vowing to lead them a-roving and do great despite upon the Spaniards. But his face darkened when Hilary offered to mount on board and inspect the treasure.

"No, no," he cried; "that is for none to see but my corporal."

And I persuaded my friends to accept the denial for the time, and to accompany me in a circuit of the cavern to find a spot where a passage might be made to the sea.

The fore-part of the cavern, towards the cliff, was much encumbered with fragments of rock, large and small. The sides were of rock; if the fore-wall was of rock also, 'twas clear that with all the tools we had at hand—pikes and belaying-pins, and such-like gear—'twould be impossible to open a passage. With gunpowder we might have blasted the rock but for the water which flowed in at every tide, and so shut us from access to the lower part of the wall. But if this were of earth, the task was one that could be compassed with time and patience. 'Twas our first concern to discover the thickness of the wall, and to this end Richard Ball clambered on to the loftiest of the rocky fragments, and another man mounted upon his shoulders, so that he might reach to one of the narrow fissures that let the daylight in. And then, by passing a pike through it, he proved by the report of a man without that the wall was no more than six feet thick.

Next, our task was to remove a number of rocks that lay without like a natural rampart about the base of the cliff, and were washed by a strong current. Ropes, whereof the galleon held a plenty, were fixed about them, and by dint of much hauling, the rocks were displaced one by one, and being removed, the sea entered the cavern more freely, though 'twas clear that the water in it would never be of depth enough to float the galleon.

As soon as the tide was gone down, we essayed to pierce a hole through the wall a little above the water level. To our great joy, we found that this portion of the wall was of earth, and before the tide rose again the men had cut a narrow tunnel through to the base of the cliff. It being night by the time this was done, the men made for themselves beds of grass and leaves upon the skirts of the woodland, being divided into watches as on board ship.

With morning light we took up our task again. We perceived that the ebb tide had carried away a great deal of the loose earth, and so made the tunnel wider. The men toiled all day by companies, increasing the passage both in width and height, the sides and roof being shored up with timber from the woods against a fall of earth from above. Captain Q watched the labour with a childish curiosity, and, in pursuance of my plan of humouring him, I now and then prompted him with commands to give the men, and they responded with obsequious and cheerful cries of "Ay, ay, sir," winking to each other the while.

So the work went on, day after day, until an opening had been made of width enough for the passage of the galleon. There was a danger now lest it might be espied from a passing ship, the which to prevent, the men brought down great armfuls of brushwood from above, and arranged them to form a screen. A sentinel was posted at a point on the rising ground behind the cliff to give warning of any vessel that should approach. While some of the men had been employed at the hole, others, the more skilful of the crew, were set to work to caulk the seams of the galleon, to fell trees for new masts and spars, and to repair the sails which were found on board. By the time this was accomplished, nought remained but to dislodge the rocks that still choked the passage-way from the cavern. Some of these were so large as to require the labour of our whole company to remove them. We had hauled away many and laid them at the foot of the cliff, when one day, a week or more after the beginning of the work, the sentinel gave out that he saw two vessels beating up against the wind towards the island.

"Maybe they are the Spaniards that were in chase of us when we were wrecked," said Hilary. "'Tis not unlike they have come to see what has become of us. Mayhap they saw us run aground, and I doubt not would have been here before but that the wind has been too strong against them all this while."

Our whole company being gathered in the cavern, arms were served out to the men from the galleon's armoury in case the Spaniards should land. The news of their coming wrought marvellously upon Captain Q. He sharpened his sword, donned a breastplate, and told the men, with great exaltation of spirit, that the moment was at hand when we should rove the seas and deal doughtily with our enemies.

The vessels came slowly towards us, and anchored a little westward of the cavern. We saw two boats put off from each, filled with men wearing the leather hats and steel cuirasses of the Spanish soldiery. Spying at them with Hilary, I reckoned that they must number sixty or more. They landed at a point near where my hut had been, and 'twas soon plain from their cries that they had come upon parts of the wreckage of the Elizabeth. Some of them ascended the cliff, and went into the woodland, doubtless to gather fruits; whereupon I quitted the cavern, and stealthily made my way up, to see what they were about. I entered the woods after them, and witnessed their stark amazement when they lighted upon signs of the recent felling of trees. Anon they hasted back to their main body on the beach; a council was held, and then the whole company, save only a few men left to guard the boats, set forth with the manifest purpose to search for the woodcutters.

Thereupon Tom Hawke proposed we should seize the boats and row out to the galleons and board them. But this bold device Hilary would by no means countenance. Besides that we knew not what force of men there might still be left on the vessels, we must needs go at the very least two hundred yards in the open ere we could win to the boats, in full sight of the men on guard. The alarm would be given, and the Spaniards might be upon us before we could put off. But since the advantage is ever with the attack, I made bold to put forward another plan, to wit, that we should quit the cavern, steal into the woods, and lay an ambush for the men that were prowling there. This proposal was debated for a while among our assembly, and being presently approved by all, Captain Q, who comprehended everything with perfect soundness of mind, set off with drawn sword in the quality of leader.

We stole out of the cavern secretly by favour of the brushwood screen, and followed him in great quiet round the shoulder of the cliff, winding about thence until we gained the wood. There we stood fast, and I went alone among the trees to discover the direction of the Spaniards' march. I crept in and out as a hunter might stalk his quarry, and by and by perceived them proceeding slowly, in close ranks, silently, and with their matches already kindled. I knew that the course they were taking would bring them in due time to a ravine, narrow, and of no great depth, that wound through the woodland, a little brook running along its bottom. Bethinking me that, could we gain the further side of the ravine, we should be in rare good case to deal with the Spaniards, I sped back to my friends, acquainted them with what I had seen, and led them swiftly through the wood.

We had no sooner taken post in the copse I had designed for our ambush, than we espied the Spaniards coming directly towards us. And then 'twas Captain Q who made our dispositions. However disordered his wits might be in common matters, he lacked nothing in the parts of a skilful commander. Keeping ten with him, of whom I was one, he bade the rest to steal down the ravine, ascend the nearer bank at a convenient spot, and, when they should hear sounds of a fray with us, come with great speed and fall upon the enemy in the rear. Hilary departed very willingly on this errand, and we ten remained close in hiding with Captain Q. I marked how his eyes gleamed, and his lips pressed firmly the one upon the other, and I was fain to conclude he had a very great courage and delight in battle.

His design was to wait until the Spaniards came to the brink of the ravine, and then salute them with a volley. But just as it was the vivid red of his garments that first drew my eyes to him, so now the same brightness made our situation known to the enemy before they came within gunshot of us. One of them spied him, and cried out; the company halted and blew upon their matches; then their captain called to us in a loud voice to yield ourselves, and when we made no answer, he bade his men advance. They pressed forward until they were come within a few paces of the ravine, and set up their muskets on the rests to have good aim at us. And then, to be beforehand with them, Captain Q gave us the word to fire, the which we obeyed all ten together, whereby a half-dozen of the Spaniards fell; and while in all haste we primed our weapons again, their captain divided his company into two bands, and sent them to right and left to scale the ravine and come through the wood upon our flanks. To a seasoned man of war, as doubtless he was, the fewness of our numbers was made apparent when we discharged our guns.

There was not a man of us but knew we stood in great peril. The enemy was of Spain's finest soldiery, and though by the grace of God we English have beaten them many times on field and flood, we have had proofs enough of their valour. If our friends should fail to come at point to our aid, we could not by any means prevail against them. But Captain Q bade us set our backs against trees, half of us facing to the right, half to the left, and we stood there ready to do what Englishmen might against our Queen's enemies.

We could not hear their approach; doubtless they hoped to creep close to us and then overwhelm us in one general assault. My heart smote upon my ribs, and my lips grew wondrous dry; 'tis no mean trial to a man to stand thus awaiting an enemy whom he cannot see, and knowing that in one swift moment he may be at grips with death. And suddenly there was a roar of muskets, and immediately afterwards, through the smoke, I saw the Spaniards rushing towards us. My musket was in its rest; blindly and with fumbling fingers I set my match to the touch-hole and pulled the cock, and, having fired my shot, drew my sword and stood to defend myself. Our volley had checked the onrush, but only for a moment, and I saw a crowd of Spaniards leaping as it were straight upon me. Then Captain Q came to my side, crying out that we would fight shoulder to shoulder, and his presence and cheerful words filled me with a new courage.

The enemy were yet a dozen paces from us, and we had our swords outthrust to meet them, when the air rang with English shouts, and a great din of firing, and some of the Spaniards fell on their faces, and rose not again. The rest came to a halt, threw a glance behind, and beheld our men, with Hilary at their head, springing like deer from the edge of the ravine. This sight was enough for their stomachs. The Spaniards fled as one man, leapt into the ravine, clambered up the other side, and made all speed by the way they had come, to regain their boats. Our men ran after them, and pursued them to the verge of the woodland, and would have continued to the very margin of the sea, but Captain Q forbade them, fearing that, if the enemy saw the smallness of our company, they would rally, and on the open strand would have us at advantage. And so we did not show ourselves much beyond the line of trees, but stood there and watched the Spaniards as they hasted down to the shore, and, embarking on their boats, returned to the galleons.

THE SPANIARDS LEAPT INTO THE RAVINE AND CLAMBERED UP THE OTHER SIDE

The tale of our loss was exceeding small. One poor fellow was killed, four had received hurts, but slight. We were all wondrous merry at the happy issue of our ambush, and Captain Q put on the high look and swelling port of a conqueror.

III

The enemy having departed, we wondered what they would do, scarce supposing that they would sail away without making another attempt upon us. Yet it appeared that this was their purpose, for as soon as the boats were hoisted aboard, the anchors were weighed, and the ships stood away towards the west of the island. This put Captain Q in a fury. He commanded the men to make all speed to finish and complete their task at the cavern, so that he might sail out and pursue the vessels. But this was mere foolishness, and I humoured him with talk of other fights in store. Hilary Rawdon again dispatched a sentinel up the hill, bidding him to post himself at a spot whence he could see, with the aid of a perspective glass, the channel between Tortuga and Hispaniola. It had come into his mind that the Spaniards had perchance sailed away merely to land on the southern shore of the island, with the intent to march again upon us unawares. But the man told us by and by that one of the ships had heaved-to in the channel to the south, while the other was making all sail to the westward.

"'Tis bound for St. John of Goave or San Domingo, without doubt," said Hilary, "to bring back a force sufficient to annihilate us."

"What grace have we before they can return?" I asked.

"Maybe a week, maybe more. 'Tis always 'to-morrow' with the Spaniards. They put off both the evil day and the good, and many's the time they have come to grief for no other reason than their habit of procrastination. We will make all speed, Kitt. 'Twould be a sin to let this great treasure fall into their hands through any sloth of ours."

The men worked with right good-will, hauling away the rocks from the entrance of the cavern, until they left the passage clear. But even at high tide there was no depth of water sufficient to float the galleon, and we must needs take thought how to bring her to the sea. We soon proved, to our great joy, that she rested on sand, and we had but to dig beneath her, and to cut a channel, and with the flood tide we could haul her out. But we could not begin this work until the next low tide, when the water in the cavern, having now a free outlet, flowed away. We built a dam to prevent its return, and then, by dint of toiling steadily, some resting while the others worked, we contrived in two days to grave out a dock wherein the vessel might ride. The work was done with great quietness, for the enemy's galleon was anchored but a few miles away, and 'twas very necessary that no sound should provoke them to come and spy what we were about. The mariners knew how much hung on their being left undisturbed until the ship could be rigged and towed out to sea, and they put a great restraint upon themselves. There was risk enough in the chance that a Spanish ship might appear off the coast. The spectacle of a dismantled hull could not fail to attract her notice, and if she should be a ship of war there was little hope that the San Felipe would ever sail the sea again.

To step the masts was no trifling business. The stump of the old mainmast was broken off low down and jaggedly, and 'twas a full day's work for the most skilful of the Elizabeth's carpenters to fit the stump for the pine stem they had prepared. The mast itself was but roughly finished. It was not stripped of its bark: the time would not serve for niceties; Hilary indeed doubted whether, with the utmost expedition, we should have the vessel in navigable trim before the galleons returned. By good luck the stump of the mizzen had not been snapped off so low as the others; and a jury mast was rigged in a third of the time the mainmast had taken.

The San Felipe had no boats, all she had carried having been stove in during the earthquake and washed away. But a boat of some sort was needful to tow the vessel out; wherefore, while some men were scraping the hull, and others rigging the spars, the rest hastened to the woods and worked with might and main to fashion a canoe of cedar. Though we employed every minute of daylight, the men taking turns to rest in the hot hours, 'twas full ten days before the work was done. And then one afternoon, when we were lying on the cliffs basking in ease we had not known for many a day, the sentinel espied three sail low down on the horizon to the west.

"Without doubt the Dons are coming back for us," cried Hilary. Then in French he asked Captain Q, with a show of deference, to give us his commands.

"We will sail forth and fight them," cried the dauntless Captain.

"'Tis a brave saying," said Harry Loveday; "but methinks 'twere best to sail out by night and make what speed we may for home. We have the treasure, and though I am as ready as any man to fight when there is somewhat to be gained by fighting, I hold that in our present case, with the enemy maybe four to one, 'twould best beseem us to secure what we have. 'Twas for treasure we came, not for needless knocks."

"There is much reason in thee, Harry," said Hilary, "and I own if 'twere sure we should escape these villain Dons and come safe to an English haven, I might think thy counsel just. But consider: the wind is light; our vessel is in no trim to make good sailing; and if the wind holds as at this present we could scarce run out of sight of the Spaniards before dawn. 'Tis full moon: we should be discerned from a great way off; and when they see us they can run us down. Furthermore, the guns on our galleon are light metal, and we have no great store of powder and ball, so that we are in no case to fight a war-ship, furnished, beyond doubt, with heavy guns. Remember, we barely outsailed the Spaniards even when we were in our own well-found (but ill-fated) Elizabeth; and if we could not stand to fight two, as all agreed we could not, how much less can we stand to fight three?"

While Hilary was thus reasoning, Captain Q, who, having given his voice for fighting, was confident we should obey without question, had gotten himself away, so that we were left to converse at our pleasure. I well knew that, by dint of my artifices of persuasion, I could bring the Captain to believe that, whatsoever resolution we might come to, it sprang from him.

"Well, then," said Tom Hawke in answer to Hilary, "if we must not run, for fear of being overhauled, what is left for us to do? If we cannot fight three Spanish ships on the high sea, assuredly we cannot fight the crews of them on land, and 'tis certain as to-morrow's sunrise that we must be discovered here."

"What if Captain Q be right?" said I. "Is not the bold course the best? If we bide here and wait to be attacked, the event will be even as Tom says: the don Spaniards outnumber us, and with all the will in the world we can scarce hold out against them. But might we not attack the vessel at anchor before the three others join with her? Aboard of her we might show a clean pair of heels to the Dons."

"Why didst not speak before, Kitt?" cried Hilary. "The time is fleeting, and while we still prate these vessels are sailing ever nearer. In sooth, yours is the way, and we will obey Captain Q's command."

We had cast down the dam that had been raised, and the tide being at the flood, the sea filled our dock, and we saw with great delight the San Felipe float upright on her keel. The most of us got aboard her; the rest towed her out of the cavern; then they also came aboard, and Captain Q looked round with pleasure on his company.

Having hoisted the sails (poor patched things as they were), we set a course eastward along the shore, the wind blowing from the north-east. Our design was to round the island and come with the wind down upon the galleon at her anchorage off the south coast. We hoped in the night-time we might surprise her and take possession of her, and then slip her cables and make away before the three vessels we had seen could beat up against the wind.

The wind being so contrary, we could make no good offing, and were in some peril of running on sunken rocks, to say nothing of that other peril of meeting an enemy's ship or flotilla. But by sunset we came safe at the north-eastern corner of the island. We rounded the eastern side, sailing large, and turned into the channel betwixt Hispaniola and Tortuga even as the moon rose upon our right hand. A black night would have most favoured our design of capturing the galleon; but our master said we had first to come at her, and being ignorant of the channel, he was right glad to have some light upon the course.

The southern shore of Tortuga bends at its middle somewhat to the north-west, so that for a time the galleon was hidden from our eyes, and we could keep the mid-channel without risk of being seen. But when we had come to that point, our master was fain to steer somewhat nearer to the cliffs: 'twould mayhap ruin our scheme if we were espied too soon by the Spaniards, wherefore he said we had best avail ourselves of the shadows where we could. Hilary and I stood at the helm beside the master, and we were troubled when we felt the keel graze a sandbank. At the fall of night the wind had freshened, and we were making a fair speed, so that if the vessel struck there would be but a small chance of hauling her off, even if she did not spring a leak and take water. By good luck and the care of our master we escaped these perils of shoals, and drew nearer to our goal.

We did not doubt a good watch would be kept on board the galleon, the which had taken up her present station, as we reckoned, so as to guard against any attempt of ours to cross to Hispaniola on rafts or canoes. Doubtless, also, they would have their guns ready loaded and their matches kindled; and maybe the vessel was riding on a spring cable. Hilary bade the most of our men to lie down out of sight, so that when the Spaniards should behold us, as they must soon do, they might not take alarm from a crowded deck.

"We must be wary, Kitt," said Hilary to me. "'Twould be rank ill-luck if she should slip her cable and stand away to meet the galleons out of the west, and maybe fire a gun to give 'em warning."

Being nearer shore, the San Felipe went more slowly than when she was out in mid-channel. We crept round the jutting points and across the coves very stealthily, the men holding perfect silence, so that the Spaniards on the vessel lying at anchor had no warning of our approach and nearness until, as we fetched about a low spit of land, we came to a straight reach of the channel, and beheld the enemy half-a-mile distant. Since secrecy was no longer to be maintained, Hilary bade the master to steer full into the broad path of the moonlight, so that we might be distinctly seen. With his perspective glass the sentinel on the vessel would discover the San Felipe to be of Spanish build, and we trusted that he would suppose her to be a friend. At Hilary's bidding some of our men made ready their grappling-irons, and so we drew nearer to the anchorage.

A light moved on the ship's deck, and we judged that we must now have been seen. As soon, therefore, as we came within hailing distance, Hilary commanded Richard Ball, who had some Spanish, to go into the bows and question what the vessel was.

"The galleon Bonaventura, of his Catholic Majesty of Spain," came the answer to his shout. "Heave-to, or we fire! Who are you?"

"The galleon San Felipe, chased by corsairs," cried Ball. "Can we anchor hereby?"

"Aye. Heave-to; we will send a boat. Are the corsairs dogs of English?"

"English and French," says Ball, cocking an eye at Captain Q, who was reclining below the level of our bulwarks, so that his red garments should not betray us.

"Cry that our helm is injured, and we will lower sail," said Hilary.

This Ball did, and our master bade the men to lower sail; but before 'twas done we had run very near to the Bonaventura, and there was enough way on our vessel to bring her alongside. We had come within a cable length of the Spaniard when we saw her boat let down, and then, our helm being put up, we drifted still closer upon the enemy.

"Bid them beware, or we shall be foul of them," said Hilary.

And as Ball cried aloud, we heard much old swearing on the Bonaventura's decks, the which were at this time thronged with men. The captain (as Ball informed us) cursed our damaged helm very heartily, it being answerable, as he supposed, for this imminent risk of fouling. But in truth our helm was in right good trim, and the master chuckled in merry sort as he ran the San Felipe close alongside of the Bonaventura, their bulwarks just touching.

And then, at the word from Hilary, our men cast their grapnels aboard, and our whole company, with machetes and half-pikes from the San Felipe's armoury, leapt upon the Bonaventura's deck. Captain Q was the first to board, and the Spaniards cried out in amazement when they saw his tall red figure springing towards them, rapier in hand, and with two score men behind, all silent, for Hilary had commanded them to hold their peace, lest the other vessels should be near at hand.

The swiftness of our onset took the Spaniards all aback. Some of them, being unarmed, shrank away from us; the rest gathered about their captain at the mainmast, where they stood to ward off our attack, and for some five minutes held us at bay. 'Twas a hand-to-hand encounter; there were no fire-arms used; steel clashed on steel, and many shrewd knocks were given and taken. But, saving in point of numbers, the odds were all against the hapless Spaniards. The very look of Captain Q, his strange garb, his war-lit countenance, had some part in daunting them, and as we pressed vehemently upon them, Hilary and Tom Hawke in the fore-front, they fell into a panic, and cast down their arms, crying for quarter. Hilary bade our men instantly seize them and carry them below, and within a little they were all safe bestowed and battened under hatches.

THE SWIFTNESS OF OUR ONSET TOOK THE SPANIARDS ALL ABACK

And now I espied their boat that had been lowered making all speed to the westward, and I asked Hilary whether we should not pursue them, believing that their intent was to acquaint those on the approaching galleons with what had befallen.

"Let 'em go," cried he, with a laugh. "If they do fall in with the vessels and tell them their tale, we shall be departed ere they can bring them to us."

"And they will not reach them," said Tom Hawke. "See, the boat has run upon a reef."

'Twas even as he had said. The crew strove hard to pull the boat clear, but without avail, and then they leapt overboard and waded waist-deep towards the shore. Not all of them came safe to it. On a sudden we heard a blood-curdling scream, and then another. Beyond question some of the hapless men had fallen a prey to ground-sharks.

The Bonaventura having thus become ours, we made haste to bring to her such useful stores as the San Felipe contained, and the chests holding the treasure. I went with Captain Q into the cabin, and observed with what pangs he saw his chests in the hands of our men. He stood on watch when they were set on a cradle for slinging on deck; and followed every movement with a jealous eye until the chests were bestowed in the cabin of the Bonaventura. They were three in number, two large and one small, and when the two former had been removed, Captain Q appeared content, and was for leaving the third behind. I remembered that I had never seen this one open, and knowing what delight he took in contemplating and fingering the contents of the others, I could not but suppose that the smallest chest held things of little worth. Seeing that the Captain appeared in a mind to leave it, I asked him whether that was his intent, and he replied that it held nought but old papers, accounts, and bills of lading, and such-like things, and told me very courteously that I might have it for my own. 'Twas not a gift I greatly valued, but I would not vex him by refusing it, and so I made one of the men convey it to the Bonaventura.

While the mariners were busied about transferring the things from the one vessel to the other, Hilary took counsel with his friends as touching the disposal of the Spanish prisoners now huddled in the hold. I spoke for carrying them with us, and putting them ashore either on some island we should pass on our homeward voyage, or on the coast of Spain when we had crossed the ocean. But Tom Hawke cried out very stoutly against this.

"Why should we burden ourselves with them?" he said. "The ship will sail the lighter without them; and bethink ye what a monstrous deal of food they will consume! Let us batten them down in the hold of the San Felipe and so leave them."

"As I live, a right good notion!" said Hilary. "Be sure they will be found when the other vessels come up, and 'twould please me mightily an I could see the meeting. 'Twill be a cause of delay also, for they will assuredly tell what has befallen them, and every minute thus filled will better our chances of escape."

"But they will increase our enemies' force, and, moreover, we shall lose as many minutes in carrying them from this vessel to the San Felipe," said I.

"Which we shall gain by the lightening of our freight," replied Hilary. "And we will e'en set about it at once, while the men are still bringing the goods aboard."

Whereupon the Spaniards were brought up in small parties and conveyed to the San Felipe. And then, all things being ready, the Bonaventura cast off and made sail, beating up against the wind as she retraced the course we had followed before.

The sun was rising as she came out into the open sea beyond the south-eastern corner of the island. 'Twas Hilary's design to set a straight course for England.

"There is treasure enough aboard," he said, "and did we essay to gain more we might lose what we have. Remember the dog in the fable; let us not lose the substance by grasping at the shadow."

"I fear me we shall have trouble with Captain Q," I said. "His mind is set on taking up his old trade of corsair, and he will not readily quit these haunts of the sea-rovers."

"Then he will e'en be a Jonah, and we had best cast him at once overboard," cried Tom Hawke.

"Nay, let us leave him to Kitt," said Hilary. "Mind ye how Kitt wrought upon us with his tongue when we discovered him in the hold? Kitt shall be our ambassador."

As we made the north-eastern corner of the island we espied, far away to the west, two Spanish galleons making what speed they could against the wind, and, we doubted not, coming in chase of us. At sight of them Captain Q was beset by a great excitement, and called upon our master to heave-to and await the villain Dons.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the ready reply. But seeing that the moment was now come when I must employ my best arts to bring him to accord with us (and, for all that Hilary had said, I had no great faith in my tongue's persuasiveness), I led him apart, and by degrees brought him to an understanding of the resolution to which we had come. 'Twas for some time a question whether the Captain's passion for fight or his avarice would get the better of it in his unstable mind, but the balance turned in our favour when I took him down into the cabin, and, pointing to the treasure-chests, asked him whether he could endure to risk the loss of things so precious. He stood in deep thought for a while; then, heaving a great sigh, he yielded.

All that day the Spaniards continued to hold us in chase, and when with the veering of the wind they gained somewhat upon us, I marked how the eyes of Captain Q lit up as it seemed that we must fight in our own despite. But they dropped away again, and at nightfall were hull down upon the sea-line, and when next morning's sun arose they were nowhere to be seen.

From that time the Captain fell into a settled melancholy. 'Twould seem that the sudden changes that were come about in his life, after eleven years of solitude, had put a strain upon his already enfeebled intellect 'twas unable to bear. He sat for long hours on deck, gazing towards the shores he would never see again, silent, taking no heed of us or of aught that happened around him. Nay, he ceased to watch over his treasure with the same jealousy, and when Hilary and the other adventurers could no longer curb their impatience, but demanded to see the wealth which they were to share, he consented, with a wan and feeble smile. We opened the chests in his presence, only Hilary, Tom Hawke, and I being there with him.

WE OPENED THE CHESTS IN HIS PRESENCE

My report had prepared my friends to see gold and jewels of great price, but they were none the less amazed beyond measure when the contents of the chests were displayed before them. One, the property of Don Alfonso de Silva de Marabona (his name was writ in full upon the cover), held enough to make us all rich beyond our dreams. The other, consigned to his Catholic Majesty King Philip himself, was filled with rare gems, the value whereof we could not so much as guess. "By my beard, Kitt," cried Hilary, "'twas a rarely kind fate that sent thee as slave to thy Admiral Marrow-bones. We might have roved the seas full ten years without getting a tithe of this treasure."

"And it vexes me sorely to think that my friend Antonio can profit nothing by it," said I.

"Reck nothing of him," cried Tom Hawke. "What does that little chest of thine contain? Let us see, old lad."

"'Tis only papers, as Captain Q told me," said I, looking for confirmation at the Captain, who, however, sat listless and inattentive in his chair.

"Well, let us see them," said Hilary. "Maybe they will give us the true value of this store of gems."

We opened the chest, and Tom Hawke sniffed and hemmed when he saw that it held indeed nought but a few documents, somewhat mildewed and yellow. They were all writ in the Spanish tongue, not one of us could read them; and though Richard Ball had some skill in speaking the language, he confessed when I asked him that he could not even read his own native English, and so was not like to be of service here. We laid the parchments again in the chest, I promising myself that when we came to port I would have them overlooked by some one who was well acquainted with the language of Castile.

The Bonaventura made quick sailing, and we had fair weather until we came off the Azores, where we suffered a heavy buffeting from a storm. Somewhat battered, our galleon sailed into Southampton Water one day in March of 1588. Captain Q had aged ten years in his aspect during the two months' voyage. He rarely broke his silence, yielded with a patient smile to my least suggestion, and seemed even to have forgotten the treasure which had once been so dear to him. When it came to be divided, a tenth share was set apart by general consent for the poor witless gentleman, and being well placed through the offices of an attorney of our town, the Captain might live in his own house and enjoy great comfort for the rest of his days. One-third was apportioned among the mariners, every man of them becoming possessor of means sufficient to keep him luxuriously for his rank and condition. An eighth was allotted to me, and the remainder parted out among Hilary and his fellow-adventurers.

As soon as might be I placed the documents from my chest in the hands of a man well skilled in the Spanish tongue. And then to my great joy 'twas proved that one of them had a vast importance for my friend Antonio. The story told him by the admiral, his uncle, was false. Don Antonio, so far from having sold his estates in Hispaniola to his brother, had in fact purchased the admiral's estates; the document in question was a conveyance drawn up in due form according to the law of Spain. Having learnt this, I was hot set to have the document conveyed to Antonio, so that the wrong he had suffered might be undone. It may well be conceived that, in that year when the great Armada was being fitted out against us, there was no communication between us and Spain, and if I had waited until the two nations were reconciled, 'tis like that the admiral would have enjoyed his ill-got wealth for long years undisturbed. But I found means, through some excellent friends, to dispatch the document to Don Antonio's lawyers in Madrid (their name being writ upon it) by way of Paris; and many years afterwards, when I had a humble place at her Majesty's court, I learnt through the Spanish ambassador that right had been done.

Eighteen years ago, when I journeyed to Madrid for behoof of Prince Charles, there seeking a bride, ('twas on my return that King James made me a knight), I found my old friend Antonio a grandee of Spain, and a very stout and (I must own) pompous gentleman. He did not recognise me: indeed, 'twas not to be expected that he should, seeing that when he had known me my cheeks were as smooth as the palm of your hand, and the hair of my head thick and strong; whereas now I am bearded like the pard (as Will Shakespeare says), and my locks, alas! are sparse and grizzled. But when I made myself known to him he clipped me by the hand, and thanked me with exceeding warmth for what I had been able to do for his good. Moreover, he told me that his own uncle Don Alfonso had been aboard the foremost galleon of those two that stood in chase of us when we sailed away that day from Tortuga. The noble admiral was cast into a wondrous amazement when he came upon the San Felipe, the which had been so long lost, and lived ever after in a constant dread lest his ill-doing should be brought to light. This wrought so heavily upon his mind that it became disordered, and when the full tale of his crime was brought in due time from Spain he sank into a dotage and shortly after died. Don Antonio was pleased to give me, in remembrance of our ancient friendship, a signet ring which had been his father's, and I have it in my cabinet, not caring overmuch to wear such gauds.

As for Captain Q, he dwelt for many a year in the house we bought for him at Bitterne, across the river. I saw him often; his wits were quite gone, poor gentleman! and he remembered nothing of the strange happenings that brought us together. 'Tis forty years and more since I made a journey to the little village of Quimperlé in Brittany, in hope that I might discover somewhat of the family of one who must have been a notable figure there in his youth. 'Twas a bootless quest. Some of the more ancient inhabitants remembered a young Huguenot named Marcel de Monteray who had fought in the wars of religion, and had been, 'twas said, a captain in the army of Condé; but he had never returned to his native place, and all his kinsfolk were long since dead. Whether Marcel de Monteray and Captain Q were the same person I do not know, and never shall. When I spoke the name in the Captain's hearing it brought nothing to his remembrance. To all Southampton, as to me, he was ever a mysterious personage. As Captain Q he lived, and when his time came to die (and he was then of a very great age), as Captain Q he was buried.

tailpiece to First Part

Interim

My grandfather told me that upon his return, after near a year's absence, his parents' joy was such that they forbore to upbraid and scold him; indeed, they killed for him the fatted calf, as it were, and made much of him. His father was for putting him again to school, but he protested that he had had enough of schooling, and desired nothing more than to follow a man's vocation. Thereto his father consented, provided he first kept a term or two at one of the Inns of Court, and learnt so much of law as would suffice for a justice of the peace when he should have come to man's estate.

It was in the summer after his return that the great fleet upon which the King of Spain had spent so much pains and treasure came at last to invade our shores; and my grandfather, being then at home, hied him to Southampton, to learn the course of its progress. He watched enviously the English vessels sail out from the haven, even the smacks and shallops being filled with young lads and gentlemen of the county eager to bear their part in the fray, or at the least to witness the unequal combat between the cumbersome great vessels of the Spaniards and the light, nimble ships that my Lord Howard commanded, with his lieutenants Drake and Hawkins and Frobisher and the rest. To serve with those great seamen was not permitted him, but he accompanied Sir George Carey when he ran out in a pinnace on the night of July 24, and found himself, as he wrote, "in the midst of round shot, flying as thick as musket-balls in a skirmish on land." But for the strict command of his father, doubtless he would have followed the Armada up the Channel, and beheld how it was stung and chevied, and finally discomfited in the Calais roads.

About twelve months thereafter, claiming the fulfilment of his father's promise, he joined himself to the company that his friend and captain Hilary Rawdon was raising for service under King Henry of Navarre, whose fortunes were at that time at a turning point. King Henry III, his cousin, had fallen to the assassin's knife, and Henry of Navarre should then have ascended the throne of France; but he was of the Huguenot party, and the Catholic League was bent upon crushing the Huguenots and excluding Henry from the enjoyment of his heritage. The army of the League, commanded by the Duke of Mayenne, held Paris; and Henry, desiring to put an end to the religious struggle that rent France asunder, and to make himself master of a united kingdom, saw himself constrained to fight for his crown. His army was choice and sound, but small, and in his extremity he sought the help of Queen Elizabeth, who sent him aid in money and men, and permitted gentlemen to enlist voluntarily under his flag. Many flocked to him, both as upholding his rightful cause, and from the love of adventure, and hatred of the Spaniards, with whom the Leaguers were in alliance. At that time my grandfather, his age being but eighteen, was moved rather by the latter considerations than by the former, though in after years the justice of a cause held ever the foremost place in his mind.

Henry of Navarre had broken up the siege of Paris and withdrawn with his army into Normandy, hoping thereby to tempt the Duke of Mayenne to follow him, and so enforce him to a decisive battle. Mayenne, on his side, issuing forth from the city, had sworn to drive the Bearnais into the sea, or to bring him back in chains. Such was the posture of affairs when that adventure befell my grandfather which I set down as he told it me, as now follows.

THE SECOND PART

CHRISTOPHER RUDD'S ADVENTURE IN FRANCE,
AND HIS BORROWING OF THE WHITE PLUME
OF HENRY OF NAVARRE

headpiece to Second Part

When I survey the backward of my life, and con over its accidents and adventures, my thoughts are drawn as by a magnet to one point of time—the moment when, through mirk and darkness, benighted in a strange place, I saw the glimmer of a light.

'Twas as foul a night as ever I saw: the sky black as Erebus; the wind howling like unnumbered poor lost souls; the rain, that smote me full in the face as I rode, stinging my flesh as each particular drop were a barb of fire. I pulled my cloak about me, and bent low over the pommel, to gain some shelter from the storm; but little comfort had I thereby, for the rain beat in betwixt my neck and the collar, and, moreover, my horse's hoofs cast up a plentiful bespattering of mud from the sodden road.

My outer man being thus discommoded, I was yet more ill at ease in my mind, for I had some little while suspected, and was now assured, that I had lost my way. I had ridden that road but once before, when I made one of Hilary Rawdon's troop that he took from Dieppe on outpost duty to St Jacques. By this time, according to my recollection, I should have come to the Bethune river, by whose bank the road runs nearly straight to Arques; but having met with some hindrance in my journey, night had overtaken me or ever I was aware, and with the darkness came the sudden bursting of the storm. What with the one and the other I could not doubt that I had strayed into one of the by-roads about Dampierre, and was now as helpless as a mariner without compass or glimpse of star.

I was musing how best to escape out of this pother when, on a sudden lifting of my head, I saw upon my left hand, level with my eyes, the blurred twinkle of the light. With a muttered benediction I turned my horse's head towards it, resolved, whether it shone from prince's mansion or shepherd's cot, to beg shelter there until the fury of the storm was abated. But I had not ridden above five yards before I found myself checked by a quickset hedge, the which made me to dismount and lead my horse up and down, seeking for some gate or gap whereby I might approach the light. Within a little my groping hand taught me that the hedge was neighbour to a low wall, and searching further, I knew that the wall was ruinous, the top being ragged and uneven where bricks or stones had fallen away. Then, touching a gatepost, and so learning that the gate was removed, I was on the point of leading my horse through the gap when my good genius whispered a hint of caution. Hilary Rawdon had dispatched me back on an errand of moment to the King; I should prove but a sorry messenger if, for my comfort's sake, I ran into any peril; 'twas meet that I should first find out what manner of house this was; for all I could tell, it might harbour an enemy. With this thought I led my horse across the lane ('twas no more), and coming after a few paces to a clump of trees, I hitched his bridle to a bough, took a pistol from the holster, and made my way afoot through the mire towards the beacon light.

The mud lay very thick, and there were besides many obstacles in the path, whereon I stumbled, being unable to see them for the darkness. Nevertheless, I picked my way among them as well as I could, holding my sword close lest it should clash upon a stone, and so came to the house, the which I perceived now to be of a good largeness. The ray shone through a chink in the shutter of a window some few feet above my head. The door was at my left hand, at the top of a flight of steps. Being resolved not to seek admittance until I had learnt somewhat of the inmates, I clambered upon the window-sill, the which being very wide gave me good foothold, and setting my eyes to the chink, I peered into the room.

My eyes were at first dazzled, from so long being in the dark; but within a little I saw two men seated at a table, between me and the light, the which came from two large candles set close together. Their backs were towards me, so that I could not tell with any certainty what manner of men they were; but from their shape I judged them not to be of the labouring kind; and indeed the room, so much of it as I could see, the chink in the shutter being but narrow, appeared to be an apartment of some splendour.

Now I had been sent by Hilary Rawdon to let King Henry know that the Duke of Mayenne was moving towards him from the eastward with a great army, without doubt intending to give him battle, word having been brought to St Jacques by a peasant that the duke was no more than forty miles away. The house whereto I had come could not be above four or five miles from the King's camp at Arques, wherefore it might be supposed that these men were friends of the King. Yet it crossed my mind that they might peradventure be Leaguers, and while I was in any uncertainty I durst not seek shelter with them, nor could I with any conscience proceed on my way. It behoved me, therefore, to make some further discovery, if that were possible, and having no satisfaction in what I had seen, I descended from my perch, and treading very warily, crept along the wall at my right hand, purposing to make the circuit of the house, in the hope to learn something more. By good hap the rain had now ceased, the sky was clearing, and, the month being August, the darkness was not so deep as heretofore; indeed, the stars were now visible, and there was a lightness that seemed to foretell the rising of the moon.

The house was all in darkness, save where I had seen the light. When I came to the corner I saw a smaller building some dozen rods apart, and there, as I passed it, I heard the sound of horses drawing their halters, whereby I guessed it to be the stables. And I perceived now many signs of disorder in the garden—statues overthrown and broken, fragments of wood and porcelain, and other things which led me to believe that the house had lately been put to the sack, and made me go with the more caution. Stealing through the garden to the back of the house, I found a door, which, when I pushed it, yielded an inch or two, but no more, by reason of some barricade behind. A little beyond it, however, I came to a window hanging loose upon its hinges; and after I had waited a moment to be sure that I was neither seen nor heard, I squeezed my body through, and entered a small room which, when my eyes became accustomed to the dimness, I perceived to be empty. There was a door at the left hand. Holding my sword under my arm, I drew my dagger, and crept across the room to the door, which, when I came to it, I found to be ajar. I pulled it towards me, desisting for a moment when it creaked, and listening, with a fear that the sound might have been heard. But there was nothing to alarm me, and having opened the door just so wide as that I might pass through, I came out into a long wide hall, which I could not doubt led to the chief entrance.

Here I paused, as well to recover breath—for my excitement had winded me—as to listen again. From my right came the low rumble of voices, and in an interval of silence I heard on my left hand, towards the main entrance, as I guessed, the sound of deep breathing as of a man asleep. Though the storm had ceased, there was still a slight moaning of the wind as its gusts took the eaves, and trusting to this to shroud my movements, I crept along the passage in the direction whence I had heard the voices, which came more clearly to my ear, yet muffled, as I advanced. Thus I arrived at a door on my left hand, and perceiving this to be open, I entered very stealthily, and saw that I was in a large and lofty chamber divided in two by a curtain.

I heard the voices yet more clearly now, but not distinctly, so that I could not catch the words. There were one or two shafts of light coming through the curtain, which when I ventured to draw near to it I found to be old and torn. Peeping through a rent that was just below the level of my head, I saw, not two men, but four, seated at the table, all masked, and wearing, as I perceived in the case of the two men whose faces were towards me, their cloaks being thrown back, the cuirasses of men of war. I listened very eagerly, to catch something of their discourse, but they were at a good distance from me, and spoke in low tones, so that I heard but a word here and there, and could not by any means piece them together. This irked me not a little, but I durst not part the curtain, for then I should have been in full view of the men on the further side of the table, whose backs I had seen when I peeped through the shutter; and I was troubled, also, by having, as it were, to strain one ear towards them and the other towards the man at the end of the hall, who might wake at any moment and, for all I knew, come to this very room. So in much impatience and fearfulness I listened, and went hot and cold when I caught the word "Bearnais," for that was the name by which the Leaguers called the King, and I had reason to suspect by this that these men were no friends of his. And by and by I heard other names, "Rosny" and "Biron," the King's friends, and then all again became confused, until one of the two that had their faces from me leant back in his chair, lifting his arms above his head as if to stretch himself, and said very clearly, and yet without raising his voice: "It were easy to snare the game, but the keepers are wary."

While I was still wondering what these words might mean, and vague surmise was making me uneasy, I heard very faintly the neighing of a horse, and a moment afterwards an answering whinny, but this much louder. The men had given over talking, and he that had last spoken still lay back in his chair, with his hands clasped behind his head, and so he remained while a man might count ten. Then of a sudden he straightened himself, flinging his hands apart, and leant across the table, and said: "The second horse is in the open." The men over against him looked at each other, their eyes glittering strangely through the masks, and I waited to see no more, for I could not doubt that the second horse was my own, and it was time for me to go. As quickly as I might, yet with great quietness, I stepped across the room towards the door, and had but just got myself out into the hall when I heard the grating sound of chairs pushed back as when men rise in a hurry, and saw a light flash through the doorway as the curtain was parted. With my heart in my mouth I fled on tiptoe along the hall and into the room I had first entered, and had not even time to close the door behind me when the men passed, their spurs ringing as they trod. I heard them come to the great door, and one of them kick the sleeping sentry, and then the door was thrown open with a mighty creaking, and I knew that they were betwixt me and my horse.

In a moment I skipped out by the window, delaying just so long as sufficed to replace it as it had first hung, and being now outside, stood to consider of my course. I saw with thankfulness that the sky had again become clouded, so that all was now near as dark as before. Men were calling to one another in the garden, and since they could hardly as yet have discovered the whereabouts of my horse, I thought I could do no better than make my way back as straightly as I could to the clump of trees where I had left him, trusting to luck and the darkness. I had gone but a few steps when I stumbled against a man, and believed myself undone; but he said: "Do you see anything?" and composing my voice I answered: "Nothing," and then left him and sped on, scarce believing in my good fortune. So with many a stumble and shrewd knock upon my shins, making all haste yet moving with such quietness as was possible, I came to the wall, and without waiting to seek the gateway I scrambled over, and fell upon my face in the mud. For this I cared nothing, only that in my fall my sword clashed against a stone, and a shout from the enclosure warned me that the alarm was given. I was on my feet in a trice, and sprang across the lane, in desperate fear lest my horse might whinny again and bring the enemy upon me ere I could loose him and mount. In my agitation of mind I could not remember whether the clump of trees was on my right hand or my left, but a break in the flying scud gave me so much light as to show me what I sought, and I had just reached it and was plunging through the undergrowth when I heard the clash of steel as the men scrambled over the wall like as I had done, and their voices calling one to another as they asked whether they saw any man.

So dark was it in the copse that I could not see my horse, and I doubt whether I should have found him in time if he, hearing my approach, had not whinnied and so led me in the right direction. I unloosed his bridle in haste, but had no sooner vaulted into the saddle than a man ran up behind me, and cried out to the others that he had me. I set spurs to my horse, but at the moment of his springing forward I felt a sharp pang in the calf of my left leg, and the man let forth a vehement oath when the horse carried me beyond his reach. Bending low in the saddle to shun the branches of the trees, the which swept my cheeks and dealt me many smarting wounds, I put my horse to the gallop, incommoded by finding that one of my stirrups was gone, and knowing never a whit whether I was riding towards Arques or from it. I came out of the copse into a road, and hearing no sounds of pursuit,—indeed scarce expecting any, since the men were not mounted—I gave the horse his head, and breasting an incline we came to a small hamlet, where I did not scruple to knock at one of the cottages until a window was opened, and a peasant sleepily demanded what I lacked. From him I learnt that I was but a stone's throw from the Bethune river, which gave me great comfort, and so I spurred on, and by and by came to the bridge by Archelles, and so on until I gained the marshy plain below Arques where the King was encamped, never stopping until I was challenged by the outposts.

I FELT A SHARP PANG IN THE CALF OF MY LEFT LEG

The day was now breaking, and since my news was important—both that which I brought from Hilary Rawdon and that which I had discovered for myself—I demanded to be led instantly to Rosny, with whom I had some slight acquaintance, having been commended to him in a letter by my Lord Seymour when I joined Hilary Rawdon's troop. Rosny at first seeing me broke into a fit of laughter, the which was not to be wondered at, seeing that my garments were drenched through and through, and my face was muddy both from splashes and from my fall, and withal I walked somewhat stiffly from the wound in my leg. But he looked grave enough when I told him in brief what news I carried, and he would have me accompany him at once to the King, whom he doubted not to find already astir, though the morning was yet young. (I had not then heard the saying of Pope Sixtus V, who foretold that the Bearnais would come off conqueror because he did not remain so long abed as the Duke of Mayenne at table; but I knew of the King's habit of rising early, the which was indeed a cause of grumbling among the sluggards of his Court.)

King Henry smiled in his beard when Rosny presented me to him, but heard me soberly enough when I gave him Hilary Rawdon's message, to wit, that the Duke of Mayenne was drawing nigh with twenty-five thousand foot and eight thousand horse to give him battle.

"What shall we do against so great a host with our poor three thousand?" said the King to Marshal Biron that stood by. "Ventre-saint-gris! Is it not hard to be a king without a kingdom, a husband without a wife, and a warrior without money?"

Here Rosny said that I had more to tell, and the King, pursing his lips so that his long nose seemed to touch his chin, bade me say on. I told him of my seeing the light, and of all that followed thereafter, saving only the matter of my wound, and when I had done, he said sharply between his teeth—

"Well, what then?"

(His words in truth were "Mais encore?" but 'tis meet I turn French into English in telling my story now.)

"I know no more, Sire," I said in answer, "but I suspect the men I saw were Leaguers, and were plotting secretly to seize your person, or to do some other mischief, and 'twere well to send a party to take them, or if that be too late, to go not from the camp without a strong guard."

"What!" cries the King; "shall I cage myself like a song-bird, or tether myself like a drudging ass? Ventre-saint-gris! my dear friends have already counselled me that I seek refuge speedily in your country; but I tell you that while I continue at the head of even a handful of Frenchmen, such counsel 'tis impossible for me to follow. As for plots, a fig for them all! Did I not listen but yesterday to a tale of a plot, as shadowy as yours? There may be such plots afoot; let there be. The assassin of my late cousin will not lack of imitators. But shall we start at shadows, or flee like a cook-wench at sight of a mouse? The men you saw, as like as not, were bandits, discoursing on the spoils they expect to reap from the ambushing of some rich Churchman. Plots! I am aweary of the word."

This reception was so little like what I had looked for that I felt abashed and, I own, somewhat ruffled also. The King's courage was known of all men, but I hold that to neglect a warning is not courage, but mere foolhardiness. While I was meditating whether I should urge the matter, the King suddenly hailed a burly man that was riding slowly a few short paces from his tent.

"Hola, Lameray," he said, "send a dozen men to the château of St Aubyn-le-cauf—which is beyond doubt the place of your adventure, Master Rudd—and seize any man you find therein. Master Rudd will tell you more at large," and with that he turned away, jesting with Rosny.

The man whom the King had called Lameray dismounted from his horse, which I perceived to be much bespattered with mud, and coming towards me with a sort of roll in his gait, he said, in a full, harsh voice—

"Master Rudd will tell me more at large?"

There was certainly something of insolency in his tone, and being already ruffled with the King's manner of receiving my news, I did not feel very amiably disposed towards this stranger, who looked at me under his beaver with a glance of mockery.

"Master Rudd, if it please him, will tell me more at large," says the man again, while I was still considering of how I should deal with him.

"You heard the King's command, Master Lameray——"

"Pardon—De Lameray," says he, interrupting me.

"De Lameray," I said, making a bow. "The château of St Aubyn-le-cauf, your nobility may not be aware, lies something less than two miles along the road towards Dampierre, and if you hurry you may yet be in time to do the King's bidding."

"And perhaps Master Rudd would be pleased to accompany me?" he said, smiling upon me.

"No," I said shortly, and thinking that perhaps his mockery sprang of my dirty and dishevelled aspect, I left him there, and strode away, with a bare acknowledgment of his salutation, to the quarters I had formerly occupied in the camp. There, having bathed and got me into clean raiment, and bound up the wound in my leg, no great matter, and eaten pretty ravenously, I set off to find Raoul de Torcy, who was of my own age, and had been my particular friend ever since I came to France.

"What news of the camp?" I said, after I had greeted him, for having been absent for a fortnight I knew nothing of what had happened of late.

"The question I myself would ask," he said, "for I only returned from Paris last night."