Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen
[Illustration: cover art]
The Quest of the
"Golden Hope"
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW
BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY
BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED
1118 Bay Street, TORONTO
[Illustration: CAPTAIN JEREMY IS WOUNDED (missing from book)]
The Quest of the
"Golden Hope"
A Seventeenth Century Story of Adventure
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of "East in the _Golden Gain_" "The Third Officer"
"Sea Scouts All" &c.
ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK E. WILES
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW
By Percy F. Westerman
Rivals of the Reef.
A Shanghai Adventure.
Pat Stobart in the "Golden Dawn".
The Junior Cadet.
Captain Starlight.
The Sea-Girt Fortress.
On the Wings of the Wind.
Captured at Tripoli.
Captain Blundell's Treasure.
The Third Officer.
Unconquered Wings.
The Buccaneers of Boya.
The Riddle of the Air.
Chums of the "Golden Vanity".
The Luck of the "Golden Dawn".
Clipped Wings.
The Salving of the "Fusi Yama".
Winning his Wings.
A Lively Bit of the Front.
A Cadet of the Mercantile Marine.
The Good Ship "Golden Effort".
East in the "Golden Gain".
The Quest of the "Golden Hope".
Sea Scouts Abroad.
Sea Scouts Up-Channel.
The Wireless Officer.
A Lad of Grit.
The Submarine Hunters.
Sea Scouts All.
The Thick of the Fray.
A Sub and a Submarine.
Under the White Ensign.
The Fight for Constantinople.
With Beatty off Jutland.
Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow
Contents
I. OF THE FUGITIVE FROM SEDGEMOOR
II. THE TWO DRAGOONS ON THE BROCKENHURST ROAD
III. CAPTAIN JEREMY'S SURPRISE
IV. THE _MADRE DE DIOS_
V. THE CHART
VI. A MIDNIGHT INTRUDER
VII. THE CAVE IN THE LONELY HEATH
VIII. CONCERNING THE EVENTS THAT PROMPTED ME
TO A DESPERATE RESOLVE
IX. FLIGHT
X. IN THE HOLD
XI. MY FIRST DAY AT SEA
XII. A BRUSH WITH ALGERINES
XIII. OF THE MYSTERIOUS SHIP IN THE MIDST OF THE OCEAN
XIV. "CAPTAIN 'ENERY"
XV. WE ARRIVE AT TREASURE ISLAND
XVI. A HASTY RECALL
XVII. ATTACKED BY BUCCANEERS
XVIII. "REPEL BOARDERS!"
XIX. BLOWN UP
XX. THE REPULSE AT THE STOCKADE
XXI. CAPTAIN CRADDOCK
XXII. A LEAP FOR LIFE
XXIII. THE PERILS OF THE SHOAL
XXIV. MORE TROUBLE IN SIGHT
XXV. WE ARRIVE AT THE HIDING-PLACE OF THE TREASURE
XXVI. UNTOLD WEALTH
XXVII. THE MUTINY OF THE _NEPTUNE_
XXVIII. THE FATE OF THE MUTINEERS
XXIX. HOMEWARD BOUND
XXX. THE LAST OF MY SWORN ENEMY
XXXI. THE BURNING SHIP
XXXII. CONSTANCE'S STORY
XXXIII. SAFE IN PORT
Illustrations
------
CAPTAIN JEREMY IS WOUNDED (Frontispiece)
I DESCENDED HAND OVER HAND
THE TREASURE OF THE "MADRE DE DIOS"
I SHOUTED TO THE MEN TO HEAVE ROUNDLY
------
MAP OF THE ISLAND
[Illustration: MAP OF THE ISLAND]
A The _Golden Hope_ in harbour.
B The stockade.
C Path taken by first expedition in search of the treasure.
CC Path taken by successful expedition.
D Wreck of the _Madre de Dios._
E Cave where Clifford was held prisoner.
F Shoal where Clifford was attacked by octopus.
G Site of the master gunner's ambuscade.
H Buccaneers' harbour and settlement.
K Wreck of the _Black Arrow._
L False landmark erected by Captain Jeremy's orders.
M Wreck of _Neptune_ owing to false bearings.
N Where the treasure was found.
O Cove where Cherry and the long-boat's crew landed.
P Deep water channel inside shoals, unknown to Captain Jeremy.
Q Existing path between buccaneers'
harbour and south side of island.
R Bearing for navigating channel.
The track of the _Golden Hope_
into the harbour is shown by the black line.
The shaded portion of the shoals were
uncovered at low water.
THE QUEST OF THE
"GOLDEN HOPE"
CHAPTER I
Of the Fugitive from Sedgemoor
Well do I, Clifford Hammond, remember the 10th day of July in the
year of grace 1685. Rebellion, though some would have it 'twas
justifiable invasion, had appeared in the land. Monmouth had landed
in Dorset, and had raised an army. How he fared, the men of
Hampshire knew not as yet, though there were many who prayed for the
successful issue of his venture.
Little did I think, living on the borders of the New Forest, that
the outbreak in the West would affect the welfare of our house. Yet
it did, though, I must confess, indirectly; for had it not been for
the routing of the rebels at Sedgemoor, the voyage of the _Golden
Hope_ would not have been undertaken, nor would I be able to relate
the desperate adventures of her crew in gaining the object of the
expedition. But I am forestalling my story.
Our family, the Hammonds of Brockenhurst, had lived within the
bounds of the Forest for centuries, as witness the name of Geoffroi
Hammond, who served with distinction at the taking of the _Great
Christopher_ in the sea-fight of Sluys; or of Thomas Hammond, who
fought at Agincourt: but I would make it plain that the Hammonds of
Brockenhurst have no connection with the rebel Colonel
Hammond--though, to his credit be it said, he treated His Majesty
King Charles the Martyr, during his captivity in the Isle of Wight,
with far more courtesy than did his brother officers.
My father, Captain Richard Hammond--"Foul-weather Dick", as he was
affectionately dubbed in the fleet--had had an adventurous career
both ashore and afloat. Beginning with the fatal fight at Naseby
when he was but a young cornet of horse of barely twenty years of
age, he had fought Dutch, Algerines, and, sad to relate, his
fellow-countrymen; but for the last ten years he had retired from
the King's service, and had settled down to a quiet country life in
his native Hampshire.
Thanks to his father's devotion to his sovereign, the exchequer of
the Hammond family had been sadly depleted. During the
ever-to-be-abhorred Rebellion, plate, jewels, money, all went, and
'twas fortunate that our lands had not been confiscated by the
Commonwealth. My father had to rely upon the unkept promises of His
Majesty King Charles II as a reward for the sacrifices of our house
towards the royal cause; nevertheless, the meagre pay of a sea
captain in the King's fleet, together with the income from the shore
estate, sufficed to keep us in comparative ease.
My father married late in life. His spouse, the daughter of Sir
Digby Tall (a baronet as impecunious as the majority of his class at
this time), died within three years of their union, leaving two
children.
At the time my story opens I, Clifford Hammond, was sixteen years of
age, my sister Constance being eighteen months my junior. She was a
tall, sprightly girl, with fresh complexion, blue eyes, and rich
golden hair, being, 'twas said, the image of her mother in her
youth.
No one would readily have taken Constance and me for sister and
brother, for I was olive-featured, with straight, dark-brown hair
and grey eyes; tall in stature, yet inclined to slenderness.
On the particular morning to which I have referred, Constance and I
had gone into Lyndhurst to give orders to a carrier respecting the
purchase of a certain article at Southampton. What the nature of the
purchase was we did not at the time know, although every month,
summer and winter, year in and year out, my father had a similar
package brought in by the regular carrier. Here I may mention that
my sire, in spite of his sixty odd years, was a wonderfully
well-preserved man, his dark-brown locks (for he scorned to wear a
peruke) being innocent of any trace of grey hairs. Yet I call to
mind the occasion, when I was yet a child of tender years, upon
which my father had perforce to attend the Verderers' Court at
Lyndhurst with his hair of a rusty, iron-grey hue. That was about
the time that Giles Shearing's wain was upset at Redbridge, and many
a housewife in Lyndhurst and Brockenhurst who relied on the
Southampton carrier had to go short-handed. I no longer wonder at
the coincidence.
As we left Lyndhurst town on our return journey, I leading a shaggy
Forest pony on which my sister, holding the required purchase, was
perched, a troop of horse came riding with loose rein and hot spur
through the quiet High Street.
They were fierce-looking fellows, with bronzed features, begrimed
with sweat and dust; upturned moustachios, and flowing locks. They
wore red frock-coats trimmed with white facings, the skirts buttoned
back to enable them to sit the better in the saddle; dark-green
breeches, long riding-boots of buff leather, and broad-brimmed
beaver hats, looped up on one side. All were armed with a broadsword
and a pair of pistols, while not a few carried snaphances in a
bucket at the right side of the saddle, or slung across their backs.
This much I noticed as they tore onwards with undiminished pace
through the narrow street, till they were lost to view in a cloud of
dust on the Southampton Road.
"There's some news for Cap'n Hammond, Master Clifford!" shouted
Chambers the blacksmith from across the way. "They say as how Duke
Monmouth's been beaten, and half his army cut to pieces. Those
redcoats are Cornbury's Dragoons, and they are hot on the track of
the Hampshire rebels. Heaven help the Mayor of Lymington and the
score of men he sent to the West!"
Young as I was, I realized that it was a case of woe to the
vanquished. Although our county had not taken up the cause of the
rebel Duke to any thing like the extent of Dorset, Somerset, and
Wiltshire, several of the towns in the western division of Hampshire
had sent small contingents to aid Monmouth's cause, and Lymington
had been the chief offender in this respect. Fortunately for us,
Brockenhurst had held aloof, though the villagers were none too
kindly disposed towards King James's measures.
We hastened on our homeward journey, eager to convey the momentous
news to my father. For the first half of the way the road ran
between dense masses of trees, intersected by shady glades, in which
the leaves of last year still littered the ground. Ever and anon a
herd of fallow deer would dash across the highway, or a troop of
Forest ponies would scamper betwixt the trees, fearing in every
human being a possible master. Pigs also roamed in great numbers,
for though it was the time of fence month[1] within the Forest, so
lax had the jurisdiction of the Verderers' Court become that the
commoners paid less heed to the regulations than they had for years
past.
At length we emerged from the forest and gained the rolling expanse
of heath, where, to right and left, as far as the eye could reach,
the heather and the gorse gleamed in the bright sunshine like a sea
of purple and gold.
"See, there's a man riding as fast as his horse can carry him!"
exclaimed Constance, pointing down the bridle path that, running
between Ring wood and Beaulieu, crosses the highway near the place
where we were.
"Aye, he seems in a mighty hurry," I replied, shading my eyes from
the glare.
"Perchance 'tis another of those horse soldiers?"
"Nay, he wears no red coat," I answered, reassuring her; but though
I did not mention it, I perceived two men riding a long distance
behind the first horseman as if in pursuit, and, unless my eyes
deceived me, they were dragoons.
"Let us hasten," urged Constance, as if filled with some
forebodings, though she was usually a strong-minded girl.
"He'll not molest us," said I. "He is too intent on his errand, I
trow."
Nearer and nearer came the fugitive--for fugitive he was--till I
could distinguish his features. Then my heart gave a sudden bound,
for I recognized the man: it was Jeremy Miles, a master mariner of
Lymington, and one of the townsfolk who had gone west to join the
rebel standard.
Constance knew him also, for she exclaimed, "'Tis Captain Miles! And
see, Clifford, there are soldiers after him!"
Something compelled me to stop and await the arrival of the
fugitive, and, holding the pony's bridle by one hand, I assisted
Constance to dismount.
As we stood we were hidden from the bridle path by a gorse-covered
bank that, being but breast high, was sufficiently low to enable us
to command the track on which the horsemen were riding without being
seen by them until they gained the highway.
Not for one moment did I expect to be in danger, for Miles was
riding strongly and evidently holding his own, while 'twas unlikely
that the troopers, keen on his pursuit, would draw rein to molest a
boy and a girl.
The fugitive was now crossing the white dusty road within twenty
paces of us, when suddenly his horse sank under him, throwing its
rider headlong to the ground. But before the expiring animal gave a
last convulsive shudder, Miles had sprung to his feet and was
looking dazedly towards his pursuers, now but a mile behind.
"Captain Miles!" I shouted, urging my pony forward. "Captain Miles!
Take Trotter and ride him across the heath."
"Why, 'tis Master Hammond!" he exclaimed. "Nay, lad, that beast
would not ship a crew like me: But they'll have their work cut out
to take me. Come, young sir, I'll trouble you to give a hand with my
mare, if you will."
Together, with Constance helping us, we dragged the body of the
animal off the road, and hid it in a slight depression behind some
furze bushes. Then hurriedly we strove to conceal the tell-tale
tracks on the dusty road.
The dragoons were now only a bare quarter-mile away.
[1] The period between the 20th June and the 20th July, during which
time the ancient right of "Pannage", i.e. turning out pigs to feed
on acorns and beech-mast, within the New Forest was withheld.