He is a worthy gentleman,
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments.--Henry IV.
It was hardly night when Sir Osborne departed; a faint and diminishing
blush still tinged the eastern sky; the blackbird was still singing
his full round notes from every thicket; and not a star had yet
ventured forth upon the pathway of the sun, except one, that, bright
and sweet even then, seemed like a fond and favoured child to the
monarch of the sky, following fearlessly on his brilliant steps, while
others held aloof. The calm of the evening sank down gently on the
young adventurer's heart: it was so mild, so placid; and though,
perhaps, pensive and tinged with melancholy, yet there was a sort of
promise in that last smile of parting day, which led Hope forward, and
told of brighter moments yet to come. For some time the knight
indulged in vague dreams, made up, as indeed is the whole dream of
human life, of hopes and fears, expectation and despondency; then
giving up thought for action, he spurred forward his horse, and
proceeded as fast as he could towards London. Longpole followed in
silence; for, in spite of all his philosophy, he felt a sort of qualm
at the idea of the long period which must intervene ere he could hope
to see his pretty Geraldine, that took away several ounces of his
loquacity.
London, at length, spread wide before them, and after some needless
circumambulation, owing to the knight's total ignorance of the
labyrinthian intricacies of the city, and the dangerous littleness of
Longpole's knowledge thereof, they at length reached Gracious Street,
and discovered the small, square paved court, long since built over,
and I believe now occupied by a tea-dealer, but which then afforded a
sort of area before the dwelling of the Flemish merchant, William
Hans. On the left hand, nearest the river, was situated the
counting-house; and to the front, as well as to the right, stretched a
range of buildings which, from their Polyphemus-like appearance,
having but one window or aperture in the front (except the door), the
knight concluded to be those warehouses whose indiscriminate maw
swallowed up the produce of all parts of the earth. Over the
counting-house, however, appeared several smaller windows, principally
glazed, and through one of these shone forth upon the night the light
of a taper, giving notice that some one still waked within. While
Longpole dismounted, and knocked with the hilt of his dagger against a
little door by the side of that which led to the counting-house, the
knight watched the light in the window; but he watched and Longpole
knocked in vain; for neither did the light move nor the door open,
till Sir Osborne bethought him of a stratagem to call the merchant's
attention.
"Make a low knocking against the windows of the counting-house,
Longpole," said he, "as if you were trying to force them. I have known
these money-getters as deaf as adders to any sound but that which
menaced the mammon."
Longpole obeyed, and the moment after the light moved. "Hold! hold!"
cried the knight, "he hears;" and the next moment the casement window
was pushed open, through which the head of the good merchant protruded
itself, vociferating, "Who's tere? What do you want? I'll call te
watch. Watch! Watch!"
"_Taisez-vous!_" cried the knight, addressing him in French, not being
able to speak the Brabant dialect of the merchant, and yet not wishing
to proclaim his errand aloud in English. "_Nous sommes amis_;
_descendez, Guillaume Hans: c'est le Sire de Darnley_."
"Oh! I'll come down, I'll come down," cried the merchant "Run,
Skippenhausen, and open te door. I'll come down, my coot lord, in a
minute."
The two travellers had not now long to wait; for in a moment or two
the little door at which Longpole had at first in vain applied for
admission was thrown open by a personage, the profundity of whose
nether garments, together with his long waistcoat, square-cut blue
coat, with the seams, and there were many, all bound with white lace,
induced Sir Osborne immediately to write him down for a Dutch
navigator. Descending the stairs, immediately behind this first
apparition, came the merchant himself, with his black gown, which had
probably been laid aside for the night, now hurried on, not with the
most correct adjustment in the world, for it looked very much as if
turned inside out, which might well happen to a robe, the sleeves of
which were not above six inches long. Sir Osborne, however, did not
stay to investigate the subject very minutely; but explaining to the
good merchant that he had something particular to say to him, he was
conducted into the counting-house, where he informed him as succinctly
as possible of what had occurred and what he desired. Good Master Hans
was prodigal of his astonishment, which vented itself in various
exclamations in Flemish, English, and French; after which, coming to
business, as he said, he told the knight that he could put up his
horses in the same stable where he kept his drays, and that after that
they would talk of the rest. "But on my wort, my coot lord," said he,
"I must go with your man myself, for there is not one soul in the
place to let him in or out of the stable, which is behind the house."
The most troublesome part of the affair for the moment was to take off
the bard or horse armour that covered the knight's charger, as it
could not be left in the stable till the next morning, when the
merchant's carters would arrive; and poor William Hans was desperately
afraid that the round of the watch would pass while the operation was
in execution, and suppose that he was receiving some contraband goods,
which might cause a search the next day.
The business, however, was happily accomplished by the aid of the
Dutch captain, who, seeing that there was something mysterious going
forward, and having a taste that way, gave more active assistance than
either his face or figure might have taught one to expect.
He also it was who, while the good merchant, with the candle in his
hand, led our friend Longpole with the horses to the stable, conducted
the knight up-stairs into the room where they had first discovered the
light, and invited him, in extremely good English, to be seated. By
the appearance of the chamber it seemed that Master Hans had been
preparing to make great cheer for his captain; for various were the
flagons and bottles that stood upon the table, together with trenchers
and plates unused, and a pile of manchet and spice bread, with other
signs and prognostications of a rere-supper; not to mention an immense
bowl which stood in the midst, and whose void rotundity seemed
yearning for some savoury mass not yet concocted.
It was not long before the merchant re-appeared, accompanied by
Longpole, who, according to the custom of those days, when many a
various rank might be seen at the same board, seated himself at the
farther end of the table, after having taken his master's casque, and
soon engaged the Dutch captain in conversation, while the knight
consulted with William Hans regarding the means of quitting England as
speedily as possible.
"It is very unlucky you did not let me know before," said the
merchant, "for we might easily have cot the ship of my coot friend
Skippenhausen there ready to-day, and you could have sailed to-morrow
morning by the first tide. You might trust him; you might trust him
with your life. Bless you, my coot lord! 'tis he that brings me over
the Bibles from Holland."
"But cannot we sail the day after to-morrow," said the knight, "if one
day will be sufficient to complete his freight?"
"Oh, that he can!" answered the merchant; "but what will you do till
then?" he added, with a melancholy shake of the head; "you will never
like to lie in warehouse like a parcel of dry goods."
"Why, it must be so, I suppose," said the knight, "if you have any
place capable of concealing me."
"Oh, dear life, yes!" cried William Hans; "a place that would conceal
a dozen. I had it made on purpose after that evil May-day, when the
wild rabblement of London rose, and nearly murdered all the strangers
they could find. I thought what had happened once might happen again;
and so I had in some of my own country people, and caused it to be
made very securely."
The matter was now soon arranged. It was agreed that the knight and
Longpole should lie concealed at the merchant's till the ship was
ready to sail, and that then Master Skippenhausen was to provide them
a safe passage to some town in Flanders; which being finally settled
between all parties, it only remained to fix the price of their
conveyance with the Dutchman. "I am an honest man," said he, on the
subject being mentioned, "and will not rob you. If you were in no
hurry to go, and could go quietly, I would charge you ten marks a ton;
but as you are in distress, I will only charge you fifteen."
"Faith!" burst forth Longpole, "you are very liberal! Why, do you
charge us _more_, not _less_, because we are in distress?"
"Certainly," answered the Dutchman, with imperturbable tranquillity;
"nine men out of ten would charge you five times as much when they
found you wanted to go very bad, now I only charge you one-half more."
"I believe you are right," said Sir Osborne. "However, I do not object
to your price; but tell me, what do you mean by fifteen marks a ton?
Do you intend to weigh us?"
"To be sure," answered the Dutchman; "why not? All my freight is
weighed, and why not you, too? No, no. I'll have nothing on board that
is not weighed: it's all put in the book."
"Well," said the knight, with a smile, "it does not much matter. Can
you take my horses too by weight?"
"Certainly," replied the other, "I can take anything; but I am
responsible for nothing. If your horses kick themselves to death in
the hold, that is not my fault."
"I will take care of that," said the knight. "Here, Longpole, help me
to put off my harness: I cannot sit in it all night."
While the custrel was thus employed in aiding his lord to disarm,
the door opened, and in bustled a servant-maid of about two or
three-and-thirty, whose rosy cheeks had acquired a deeper tinge by the
soft wooing of a kitchen fire, and whose sharp eyes shot forth those
brilliant rays generally supposed to be more animated by the wrathful
spirit of cookery and of ardent coals than by any softer power or
flame. Immediately that she beheld two strangers, forth burst upon the
head of William Hans the impending storm. She abused him for telling
her that there would only be himself and the captain; she vowed that
she had not cooked half salmon enough for four; she declared that she
had only put down plates and bread for two; and she ended by
protesting that she never in her life had seen anybody so stupid as he
himself, William Hans.
To the mind of Sir Osborne, the lady somewhat forgot the respect due
to her master; but, however, whether it was from one of those strange,
mysterious ascendancies which cooks and housekeepers occasionally
acquire over middle-aged single gentlemen, or whether it was from a
natural meekness of disposition in the worthy Fleming, he bore it with
most exemplary patience; and when want of breath for a moment pulled
the check-string of the lady's tongue, he informed her that the two
strangers had come unexpectedly. Thereupon, muttering to herself
something very like "Why the devil did they come at all!" she set down
on the table a dish of hot boiled salmon; and, after flouncing out of
the room, returned with the air of the most injured person in the
world, bringing in a platter-full of dried peas, likewise boiled.
These various ingredients (the salmon was salted) William Hans
immediately seized upon, and emptied them into the great bowl we have
already mentioned. Then casting off his gown, and tucking up the
sleeves of his coat, he mashed them all together; adding various
slices of some well-preserved pippins, a wooden spoon's capacity of
fine oil, and three of vinegar. Fancy such a mess to eat at eleven
o'clock at night, and then go to bed and dream! Boiled salmon and
peas! apples and oil! and vinegar to crown it!
However, Sir Osborne resisted the tempting viands, and contented
himself with some of the plain bread, although both the merchant and
the captain pressed him several times to partake; assuring him, while
the oil and vinegar ran out at the corners of their mouths, that it
was "very coot; very coot indeed; excellent!" And so much did they
seem to enjoy it, that the unhappy Longpole was tempted for his sins
to taste the egregious compound, and begged a small quantity at the
hands of good Master Hans. The bountiful merchant shovelled a
waggon-load of it upon his plate, and the yeoman, fancying himself
bound in common politeness to eat it, contrived to swallow three whole
mouthfuls with a meekness and patience that in the succeeding reign
would have classed him with the martyrs; but at the fourth his
humanity rebelled, and thrusting the plate from him with a vehemence
that nearly overturned all the rest, "No!" cried he. "No, by----!
there is no standing that!"
The merchant and his countryman chuckled amazingly at poor Longpole's
want of taste, and even the knight, albeit in no very laughter-loving
mood, could not help smiling at his custrel's discomfiture. But as all
things must come to an end, the salt salmon and peas were at length
concluded, and some marmalades and confections substituted in their
place, which proved much more suitable to the taste of such of the
company as were uninitiated in the mysteries of Flemish cookery.
With the sweatmeats came the wines, which were all of peculiar rarity
and excellence; for in this particular, at least, William Hans was a
man of no small taste, which he kept indeed in continual practice. Not
that we would imply that he drank too much or too often, but still the
god of the gilded horns had been gently fingering his nose, and with a
light and skilful pencil had decorated all the adjacent parts with a
minute and delicate tracery of interwoven rosy lines.
As the wine diffused itself over his stomach, it seemed to buoy up his
heart to his lips. Prudence, too, slackened her reins, and on went his
tongue, galloping as a beggar's horse is reported to do, on a way that
shall be nameless. Many were the things he said which he should not
have said, and many were the things he told which would have been
better left untold. Amongst others, he acknowledged himself a
Lutheran, which in that age, if it tended to find out bliss in the
other world, was very likely to bring down damnation in this. He
averred that he looked upon the Bishop of Rome, as he called the pope,
in the light of that Babylonish old lady whose more particular
qualification is not fit for ears polite; and he confessed that when
Dr. Fitz-James, the Bishop of London, had bought up all the
translations of the Bible he could find, and burnt them all at Paul's
Cross, he had furnished the furious Romanist with a whole cargo of
incomplete copies. "So that," continued he, "the bishop damned his own
soul the more completely by burning God's Word, and paid the freight
and binding of a new and complete set into the bargain." And he
chuckled and grinned with mercantile glee at his successful
speculation, and with puritanic triumph over the persecutors of his
sect.
Sir Osborne soon began to be weary of the scene, and begged to know
where he should find his chamber, upon which Master Hans rose to
conduct him, with perfect steadiness of limb, the wine having affected
nothing but his tongue. Lighting a lamp, he preceded the knight with
great reverence; and while Longpole followed with the armour, he led
the way up a little narrow stair to a small room, the walls of which,
though not covered with arras, were hung with painted canvass, after a
common fashion of the day, representing the whole history of Jonah and
the whale; wherein the fish was decidedly cod, and the sea undoubtedly
butter and parsley, notwithstanding anything that the scientific may
say to such an assemblage. The ship was evidently one that would have
sunk in any sea except that she was in: she could not have sailed
across Chancery Lane in a wet day without foundering; and, as if to
render her heavier, the artist had stowed her to the head with
Dutchmen, rendering her, like the _dinde à la Sainte Alliance_ (viz. a
turkey stuffed with woodcocks), one heavy thing crammed full of
another.
The whole of the room, however, was cleanliness itself: the little bed
that stood in the corner with its fine linen sheets, the small deal
table, even the very sand upon the floor, all were as white as snow.
"I am afraid, my coot lord," said the merchant, who never lost his
respect for his guest, "that your lordship will be poorly lodged; but
these three chambers along in front are what I keep always ready, in
case of any of my captains arriving unexpectedly, and it is all clean
and proper, I can assure you. I will now go and bring you a cushion
for your head, and what the French call the _coupe de bonne nuit_, and
will myself call your lordship to-morrow, before any one is up, that
you may take your hiding-place without being seen."
The knight was somewhat surprised to find his host's recollection so
clear, notwithstanding his potations; but he knew not what much habit
in that kind will do, and still doubted whether his memory would be
active enough to remind him that he was to call him when the next
morning should really come.
However, he did Master Hans injustice; for without fail, at the hour
of five, he presented himself at the knight's door; and soon after
rousing Longpole, he conducted them both down to the warehouses,
through whose deep obscurity they groped their way, amidst tuns, and
bags, and piles, and bales, with no other light than such straggling
rays as found their way through the chinks and crevices of the boards
which covered the windows for the night.
At length an enormous butt presented itself, which appeared to be
empty; for without any great effort the old merchant contrived to move
it from its place. Behind this appeared a pile of untanned hides,
which he set himself to put on one side as fast as possible, though
for what purpose Sir Osborne did not well understand, as he beheld
nothing behind them but the rough planks which formed the wall of the
warehouse. As the pile diminished, a circumstance occurred which made
all the parties hurry their movements, and despatch the hides as fast
as possible. This was nothing else than a loud and reiterated knocking
at the outer door, which at first induced Master Hans to raise his
head and listen; but then, without saying a word, he set himself to
work again harder than ever, and with the assistance of the knight and
Longpole, soon cleared away all obstruction, and left the fair face of
the boarded wall before them.
Kneeling down, the merchant now thrust his fingers under the planks,
where the apparently rude workmanship of the builder had left a chink
between them and the ground, then applied all his strength to a
vigorous heave, and in a moment three of the planks at once slid up,
being made to play in a groove, like the door of a lion's den, and
discovered a small chamber beyond, lighted by a glazed aperture
towards the sky.
"In, in, my coot lord!" cried the merchant; "don't you hear how they
are knocking at the door? They will soon rouse my maid Julian, though
she sleeps like a marmot. What they want I don't know."
Sir Osborne and Longpole were not tardy in taking possession of their
hiding-place; and having themselves pulled down the sliding door by
means of the cross-bars, which in the inside united the three planks
together, they fastened it with a little bolt, whereby any one within
could render his retreat as firm, and, to all appearance, as
immoveable as the rest of the wall. They then heard the careful
William Hans replace the hides, roll back the butt, and pace away;
after which nothing met their ear but the unceasing knocking at the
outer door, which seemed every minute to assume a fiercer character,
and which was perfectly audible in their place of refuge.
The merchant appeared to treat the matter very carelessly, and not to
make any reply till it suited his convenience; for during some minutes
he let the knockers knock on. At length, however, that particular
sound ceased, and from a sort of rush and clatter of several tongues,
the knight concluded that the door had been at length opened. At the
same time the voice of the Fleming made itself heard, in well-assumed
tones of passion, abusing the intruders for waking him so early in the
morning, bringing scandal upon his house, and taking away his
character.
"Seize the old villain!" cried another voice; "we have certain
information that they are here. Search every hole and corner; they
must have arrived last night."
Such, and various other broken sentences, pronounced by the loud
tongue of some man in office, reached the ears of Sir Osborne,
convincing him, notwithstanding Henry's assurance that till noon of
that day he should remain unpursued, that Wolsey, taking advantage of
the king's absence at Richmond, had lost no time in issuing the
warrant for his arrest.
Sitting down on a pile of books, which was the only thing that the
little chamber contained, he listened with some degree of anxiety to
the various noises of the search. Now it was a direction from the
chief of the party to look here or to look there; now the various
cries of the searchers when they either thought they had discovered
something suspicious or were disappointed in some expectation; now the
rolling of the butts, the overturning of the bales, the casting down
of the skins and leathers; now the party was far off, and now so near
that the knight could hear every movement of the man who examined the
hides before the door of his hiding-place. At one time, in the
eagerness of his search, the fellow even struck his elbow against the
boarding, and might probably have discovered that it was hollow
underneath, had not the tingling pain of his arm engaged all his
attention, passing off in a fit of dancing and stamping, mingled with
various ungodly execrations.
At length, however, the pursuers seemed entirely foiled; and
after having passed more than two hours, some in examining the
dwelling-house and some the warehouse, after having tumbled over every
article of poor William Hans's goods, their loud cries and insolent
swaggering dwindled away to low murmurs of disappointment; and growing
fainter and fainter as they proceeded to the door, the sounds at
length ceased entirely, and left the place in complete silence. Not
long after, the workmen arrived and began their ordinary occupations
for the day; and Sir Osborne and Longpole thanked their happy stars,
both for having escaped the present danger, and for their enemy's
search being now probably turned in some other direction.