WOOD MEETS HOWARD.
"What though our hands be weaker now
Than they were wont to be,
When boldly forth our fathers sailed,
And conquered Normandie?
We still may sing their deeds of fame,
In thrilling harmony;
They won for us a gallant name,
Ruling the stormy sea!"--_Ballad_.
After running along the coast of Angus so far as that remarkable
promontory named the Red Head, which rises to the height of two
hundred and fifty feet on the southern shore of Lunan Bay, Sir Andrew
Wood had put his ships about, and under easy sail bore back towards
Dundee, without seeing any trace of the strangers he was in search
of. From the tops the light had been discerned in the _Big O_ of
Arbroath, as the seamen named the great circular window of St. Thomas
of Aberbrothwick, which was then illuminated at night by the
charitable Benedictines of that magnificent abbey; and it formed a
glorious landmark for those who traversed the German Sea, from whence
it could be seen shining afar off, like a vast moon resting on the
sloping promontory.
About midnight the vessels were creeping along the sandy shore of
Barrie, where the waves rolled far upon the level beach, and chafed
against the heaps or tumuli which cover the graves of the Danish
invaders, when Master Wad, who had the middle watch, pricked up his
ears on hearing the distant sound of a ship's bell. The silver mist
was still so thick, that when viewed from the stern, the ship's head,
and even the mizen crosstrees, were involved in obscurity.
"I hear a sound," said Falconer, who, lover-like, was still loitering
on deck, and restlessly musing over the hazel-eyed Sybilla, from whom
he calculated he was now only about eight or ten miles distant.
"Willie," said he, "that sound is like the ringing of metal, or is it
the deid bell in my ear?"
"I would hope not," replied the gunner; "for if it is sae, some o' us
will be slipping our cables before day-dawn."
"There it is again--no imaginary, but a solid bell, and it rings in
the mist. Can it be the Inchcape?"
"Nay, Sir David; the moon is in the west, and the tide in ebbing, so
by the soundings we should ha'e the Buddon-ness about three miles off
on our lee-bow."
"And the Inchcape Bell?"
"About eight miles to windward. Ewhow, sirs! there are the
top-gallant sails of a large vessel glinting in the moonlight and
aboon the mist like snaw on a hill-top; a pint o' sack to a pint o'
bilge, it is the English captain! Call up Robert Barton--pass the
word to the admiral!"
The arquebussier who stood on guard near Jacob's ladder passed this
intelligence through the door of the poop, and in a moment Captain
Barton and Sir Andrew came on deck. As all sailors do, they first
glanced at the compass, and then cast their gaze aloft, to see that
all the sails were full.
"How does she bear?" asked Sir Andrew.
"About a mile off, on the lee-bow, between us and the Gaa sands."
"Gadzooks! her draught of water must be small."
"There she's noo, sir, wi' top-gallants set aloft, for the wind is
but light."
As the gunner spoke the canvas of the strange vessel was seen to
glitter like snow in the moonlight; but for a moment only, as she was
again immediately shrouded in mist.
"What dost thou take her to be, Robbie?" asked the admiral.
"English," replied Barton, tightening his waist-belt, "English by the
rake of her masts and fashion of her top hamper."
"Art sure?"
"I got a full glisk of her just now, as she shot out of one bank into
another. Hark! there goes her bell again!"
"Master Wad, got ready a gun there, for on the next tack we may fall
aboard of her; I do think she is English, though there was no
red-cross on her fore-topsail. But clear away for battle, Barton,
for if it is the gallant Howard, we shall avenge thy father's fall,
and make such a din on these waters as will scare all the fish
between Fifeness and the Carlinheugh. Take in sail, and beat to
quarters."
The kettle-drum rolled and the trumpet was blown: in three minutes
the ports were opened; the sails reduced by the watch; the magazine
opened by the gunner; the arquebussiers of Falconer manned the tops
and poop, and flinging aside their bonnets and gaberdines, five
hundred seamen, grasping the rammers and sponges, the linstocks and
tackle of the cannon, stood in fighting order, while Master Wad fired
a gun, and ran a red lantern up to the mast-head, to let Sir
Alexander Mathieson, who was half a mile astern, know that the
admiral had cleared for action.
"Sail ho!--here she comes again!" cried a hundred voices, as the
gigantic outline of the English ship, looming like a great cloud
through the mist, approached on the opposite tack, and within
pistol-shot. Both shortened sail by backing their fore and
mizen-yards. By the line of lights that glittered along the
stranger's deck, her crew were evidently standing by their guns, and
all equally prepared. Trumpet in hand, Barton, whose heart was
brimming with fiery joy, sprang into the main-chains on the starboard
side.
"Silence fore and aft!" cried he; but the warning was needless, for
then one might have heard a pin fall on board the _Yellow Frigate_.
"Ho--the ship ahoy!"
"_Hola-ho!_" replied a voice from the waist of the stranger.
"French!" muttered Barton, in a tone of disappointment; "what ship is
that?"
"The _Sainte Denis_, caravel of Monseigneur the admiral of the
galleys to his Majesty Charles the Affable."
"This is the _Yellow Caravel_ of his Majesty the King of the Scots.
We knew not that the admiral of France was in these seas."
"We are in pursuit of three English ships commanded by Captain Edmund
Howard, brother of the lord admiral of England."
"So are we, and would give all the teeth in our heads to overhaul
them. Sir Andrew Wood craves leave to pay his respects ko
Monseigneur d'Esquerdes, admiral of the galleys."
"Monseigneur the Laird of Largo is welcome."
Archy, the old boatswain, was piping away the crew of the barge, when
the pretended Frenchman, having no desire for such a visit, hauled
his wind, braced up his yards, and stood right away into the mist,
with his topsails glittering, after which Sir Andrew Wood saw no more
of him. The ports were lowered, the culverins secured; Master Wad
locked the magazine with a sigh, as he reflected there was no chance
of fighting; the hammocks were piped down; the yards were squared;
and with no ordinary feelings of disappointment, the crew of the
_Yellow Frigate_ found themselves once more silently passing the
Tower of Broughty towards their former anchorage off the craig of St.
Nicholas.
Intent only on reaching England without perilling the crooked
measures of his sovereign, Captain Howard was glad that he had
succeeded in "throwing dust," as he said, "into the eyes of old
Andrew Wood," and when sorely importuned by his officers and crew to
fight the Scots, is reported to have lost patience, and said,
"God confound ye, fellows; dost think I will carve out my coffin to
please you?"
But fate, however, and the waves and wind were against him; for
before daybreak the mist was swept from the German Sea by a sudden
and heavy gale from the south-east, which nearly threw the _Harry_ on
her beam-ends, and compelled her to run before it, in the very
opposite direction from that which Howard wished to pursue. He was
driven along the dangerous coast of Kincardine; and before the second
day's sunset, instead of making the coast of England, as they had
hoped, the crews of the three English ships were straining every
nerve, and using all the art of seamanship to weather the dangerous
Cape of Buchan-ness, nearly ninety miles northward from the mouth of
the Tay.
How it fared with Margaret Drummond in the meanwhile will be related
in another chapter of this history.