THE LOVER AND THE SPY.
"O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps,
And now falls on her bed."--Shakespeare.
The approaching vessels had been descried already from the ships of
Howard, who fired a cannon to quicken his boat; and the moment it was
on board and hoisted in, with its provisions he desired all to be
cleared away for battle, and ordered Borthwick to attend him in his
cabin.
"Well, thou bird of ill omen," said he, while arming himself, "what
evil wind hath blown thee on board the _Harry_ to-night? Speak out,
and briefly, too; try none of thy cobler tricks with me."
"I have come with a message from the Lords at Leith----"
"Ah! they are there, then; and the rumours we have heard are true:
has the King of Scotland fought a battle and been defeated?"
"Yes, and hath fled, no man knows whither," said Borthwick, with a
dark smile on his pale face, while he could not repress a twinge of
uneasiness at the mention of the king's name, for he saw ever before
him--when alone for a moment--that ghastly corpse, lying where he had
flung it, in the ditch beside the Bannock.
"And so young Rothesay now is king," said Howard, sadly, and pausing
while he braced his corslet.
"No--nor can be, until we ascertain that the king, his father, is
dead."
"Of course; well, and what want your rebel lords with me?"
"I should have said Sir Patrick Gray."
"Well, well--speak quickly; for the foe comes on. Your message----"
"Concerns the Lady Margaret Drummond, and your bond in cipher with
the Scottish friends of King Henry."
"Well," said Howard again, buckling his waist-belt with a furious
jerk; "what of them?"
"Wood is about to attack you, and you must be well aware that if the
_Harry_ is taken, and these are found on board--the lady and the
bond,--the hope of Henry's alliance will be crushed by her being
discovered, and the safety of his allies in Scotland will be
compromised by the documents."
"The curse of all the saints be on King Henry's plots and on those
Scottish cravens who pander to the pay, the wiles, and selfish ends
of England!" said Howard, with great bitterness. "Well, fellow, and
what would your Laird of Kyneff advise?"
"That this troublesome dame be hove overboard, with Master Kraft's
writings and the deep-sea lead tied together to her neck----"
"Confound thee, thou limb of Satan!--thou infamous and lubberly
lurdane!" cried Howard, in a tempest of rage at this terrible
proposition. "Begone," he added, smiting Borthwick on the mouth with
his steel glove; "begone, sheer off; or by all that is sacred in
heaven, I will have thee bound to a kedge, and flung overboard like
St. Clement! Yoho there, Will Selby!" he said to his page, who stood
without the cabin, "is that fisher-boat, which we took off Tyningham
sands, astern yet?"
The page replied that it was.
"Then see this ruffian put into her; give the two fishermen a handful
of tokens, and bid them cast off and begone, in the devil's name,
lest I hang this recreant Scot where I fain would hang his masters."
In two minutes after this our knight of the scarlet mantle found
himself hustled over the side of the _Harry_ into a shore-boat, in
which were two poor fishermen, who, after receiving a handful of
those leaden pledges which the English used in the time of their
seventh and eighth Henries in lieu of copper coinage, gladly pulled
away for Tyningham Sands, where their wives and children had been
waiting for them in sore apprehension and weeping the livelong day.
Anxious to get clear of the engagement which was to take place, they
stepped their mast, hoisted their sail, and prayed hard to St. Bey
for a favourable breeze; but little wind came, and even that was
against them; so they bequeathed the poor saint to the devil, spat on
their hands, and betook them to their oars, like men.
"Thank Heaven, my ship is freed from the contamination of such a
wretch," said Howard; "though 'twere not worth while to lose my
temper with him. By St. George, I profit little by old Caxton's
'Book of Good Manners;' though I have studied it more than stars or
compass since Margaret Drummond came on board."
The handsome Howard was now completely armed, and presented himself
at the cabin of Margaret, whose attendants, Cicely and Rose, had
acquainted her of the dire preparations making on deck overhead.
Sorrow and confinement had rendered her so pale that she was like a
beautiful marble statue, and her exceeding fairness was rendered
stronger by her dark purple dress, and the triangular cap of the same
material which shaded her fine hair, the locks of which shone like
golden tresses in the light of the cabin lamp. On beholding Howard
in his armour she started forward to meet him.
"Dear madam," said he, "I am come--to--to--"
"To restore me to my family," said Margaret, with sweet earnestness;
"is it not so? you will--you will do so now; for I have been told
that the king's admiral approaches to demand me."
"Nay, lady, I came but to convey you to a place of safety," paid he;
"you are misinformed, for none in Scotland (three villains excepted)
know that you are here, or that you are in the land of the living.
The king was accused of abducting you, and he has lost a bloody
battle near Stirling, fought by the nobles."
"And my father fought against him?"
"Very probably."
Margaret clasped her white hands in fear and misery.
"And what tidings are there of the Duke of Rothesay?"
"I have heard of none," said Howard, on whom that name when uttered
by her lips, fell as a mortal blight. "Lady Drummond, we are about
to engage in a close, and, it must be, desperate conflict, with the
king of the Scottish mariners, and it may be that you will never
again be troubled by the voice or presence of Edmund Howard. Oh,
think over all I have dared to urge, during the many days it has been
my happiness to know you and to seek your esteem. You know my
secret; say, if I survive to-night, may I hope for something more
than friendship?"
"Your secret," reiterated Margaret, as her fine blue eyes filled with
tears; "alas, fair sir, you know not _mine_. I admire and most
sincerely respect you, Edmund Howard; but more I dare not say--so, I
beseech you, cease to urge me further on this most painful subject."
"True, true," said Howard, beating his breast, "I have indeed but
little to offer you compared with what you have lost. It may be
weakness----"
"The weakness of the strong man and of the gallant heart."
"Alas! in love we ever carry more sail than ballast--who can control
the heart in love----"
"If you knew _all_, you never again would address me thus. Oh, talk
not of love to me--it is in vain, nor dare I listen."
"Alas, that I should hear this doom from your own lips at last, lady!
I will quit this wandering life of mariner, for I have one of those
happy homes that are only to be found in England; where the woods are
green, and our painted windows open down to soft and sunny lawns,
instead of iron grates that grimly peer through deep fosses and
guarded barbicans, as here in Scotland, lady. There no rude barons,
or lawless lairds, ride from tower to tower with spears and torches
in their train, no hostile clansmen wage eternal war, making their
life but a mission of military vengeance and feudal hatred; and there
no venal peers are ever ready to sell their country and their king,
her rights or her honour for foreign gold. Oh no; in merry England
we know nothing of transmitted hatred, of Highland raids and border
forays. I love you, lady, well, and, with you, I fain would share
that quiet English home; I love you passionately, and denial is
death, and worse than death to me! and I say so now when on the eve
of battle with one who was never foiled or vanquished on the sea. In
that happy home, if spared to see it, I could worship you as a monk
who serves his altar, and treasure you as a miser hoards his
treasure. Oh do not turn from me as if I was hateful," continued
Howard, borne away by his passion and finding eloquence in the very
depth of it; "'tis true I am an Englishman, lady, and that you are a
Scot--but can a few miles of land or of water make such an evil
difference in our tempers or our race----"
"Oh no, it is not hate that makes me turn away, but true sorrow for
yourself, my good and noble Howard," said Margaret, as she pressed
his hands in hers; for his honest passion and gentle bearing touched
her to the soul, and no woman ever hears a man say he loves her
without feeling a more than common interest in him; but happily for
both, this painful interview was cut short by the stentorian voice of
John o'Lynne, who cried through the poop door,--
"Yoho, Captain Howard; the Scots are within a mile of us and bring
down the breeze with them, and it freshens fast."
This reminded Howard of what he had forgotten,--that he had come, not
to make love, but to conduct his fair prisoner and her two pretty
attendants, Rose and Cicely, to a place of security, which he now
proceeded to do. They were accordingly conducted between-decks, amid
a tremendous uproar, for in one quarter Dick Selby was hoisting up
shot and powder from the magazine, in another, boxes, chests, and
bulkheads were going down, and hammocks being triced up, while the
shrill whistle of the boatswain, the swearing and noise of the
seamen, made the place terrible to them; and from the lower deck they
descended by a ladder and the light of a lantern into a dreary and
Cimmerian gulf, from which arose the combined odours of bilge and
rancid beef, stale cheese, tarry ropes, and other agreeable perfumes,
such as usually pervade the region of the cockpit. And there, in a
curtained and cushioned berth, below the water-line, he left them to
their prayers, and with a sigh ascended to the maindeck of the
_Harry_; and then his spirit rose as he breathed more freely.
"Dick Selby,--up with the battle-lanterns, and beat to quarters!"
said he: "John o'Lynne, make sail on the ship; see, the _Cressi_ will
first engage these petulant Scots; stand to your culverins, my lads
fore and aft, if you would not brook a Scottish prison, oatmeal, and
iron fetters, before we see merry England again!"
And bravely every man in the good ship _Harry_ stood by his gun, and
drew tighter the buckles of his helmet and girdle.