CAPTAIN
JOHN SMITH
FOURTH IMPRESSION
_The American Trail Blazers_
“THE STORY GRIPS AND THE HISTORY STICKS”
These books present in the form of vivid and fascinating fiction, the
early and adventurous phases of American history. Each volume deals
with the life and adventures of one of the great men who made that
history, or with some one great event in which, perhaps, several heroic
characters were involved. The stories, though based upon accurate
historical fact, are rich in color, full of dramatic action, and appeal
to the imagination of the red-blooded man or boy.
Each volume illustrated in color and black and white
12mo. Cloth.
LOST WITH LIEUTENANT PIKE
GENERAL CROOK AND THE FIGHTING APACHES
OPENING THE WEST WITH LEWIS AND CLARK
WITH CARSON AND FREMONT
DANIEL BOONE: BACKWOODSMAN
BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND TRAIL
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH
DAVID CROCKETT: SCOUT
ON THE PLAINS WITH CUSTER
GOLD SEEKERS OF ’49
WITH SAM HOUSTON IN TEXAS
[Illustration: THE TERRIFIED FRENCHMAN DROPPED HIS SWORD AND FELL UPON
HIS KNEES]
CAPTAIN
JOHN SMITH
BY
C. H. FORBES-LINDSAY
AUTHOR OF “INDIA: PAST AND PRESENT,” “AMERICA’S INSULAR
POSSESSIONS,” “DANIEL BOONE, BACKWOODSMAN,” ETC.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY_
HARRY B. LACHMAN
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA & LONDON
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1907
BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
_Electrotyped and printed by J. B. Lippincott Company
The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A._
DEDICATED
TO
MY AMERICAN SON
AND
MY BRITISH NEPHEWS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I WHERE THERE’S A WILL THERE’S A WAY 23
II LONDON TOWN IN SHAKESPEARE’S DAY 36
III THE SOLDIER APPRENTICE 48
IV DUPED AND ROBBED 60
V A DUEL WITH A DASTARD 72
VI DARKNESS AND DAWN 83
VII SOME STRATAGEMS 95
VIII THE DIN OF BATTLE 107
IX GUERILLA TACTICS 119
X THE THREE TURKS 130
XI BRAVE HEARTS AND TRUE 144
XII SLAVERY AND A SEA-FIGHT 155
XIII A BAD BEGINNING 171
XIV POWHATAN AND HIS PEOPLE 182
XV TREASON AND TREACHERY 193
XVI CAPTIVE TO THE INDIANS 204
XVII POCAHONTAS TO THE RESCUE 215
XVIII FIRE AND STARVATION 226
XIX A TURN IN THE TIDE 238
XX DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 250
XXI SOME AMBUSCADES 262
XXII A CURIOUS COMBAT 274
XXIII A HUMBLED CHIEFTAIN 285
XXIV A DISMAL TALE 296
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE TERRIFIED FRENCHMAN DROPPED HIS SWORD
AND FELL UPON HIS KNEES _Frontispiece_
HE HASTENED DOWN TO THE WATER’S EDGE AND
SHOUTED LUSTILY 85
THE SETTLERS HAD BEEN UNDER THE SLEEPLESS EYE
OF SPIES LYING HIDDEN 206
IT WAS IN VAIN THAT THE INDIAN STRUGGLED TO
SHAKE OFF THAT IRON GRIP 282
FOREWORD
The history of the world furnishes few lives so romantic and replete
with stirring incident as that of John Smith, the founder of the first
English colony in America--that settlement at Jamestown in Virginia, of
which the United States of today is the outgrowth.
John Smith began life in the year 1580, in the glorious reign of Good
Queen Bess. It was a world of turmoil into which our hero came, but a
most fitting field for so adventurous a spirit. In France, the gallant
Henry of Navarre was fighting for a kingdom and his faith against the
Catholic League. In the Low Countries, the sturdy Dutchmen, under
Maurice of Orange, were defending their homes from the invasion of
the arrogant and bigoted Spaniard, who deemed it his duty to punish
every Protestant people. In the east of Europe, the Ottomans--Asiatics
from Turkestan and other countries--maintained an incessant and savage
warfare against the subjects of the Emperor of Germany.
There was but one peaceful spot in all Christendom, and that the “right
little, tight little island” of our forefathers. There were, however,
thousands of Englishmen who, like John Smith, had no stomach for a
life of ease and they were to be found in every army on the continent,
fighting for gain or religion, and often for sheer love of the life of
action. Moreover Cabot, the first on the coast of America, had started
that movement which was to create the greatest colonial empire in the
history of the world, and Raleigh had already made his first futile
attempt to settle Virginia, where John Smith was destined to play a
master part.
On the seas, vessels of each nation preyed upon those of every other,
for a tacit condition of enmity prevailed among them regardless of the
status of their several countries. Navies were composed mainly of the
merchant marine, for every ocean-going ship carried cannon and small
arms. Commonly their captains were furnished with letters of marque,
commissions issued by their sovereigns authorizing the holders to
attack the sails of other countries hostile to their own and to take
prizes and prisoners. The possession of letters of marque saved a
captain and his crew from the disgrace and the penalty of piracy, but
it was often no more than a cloak for the practice. Two ships flying
different flags hardly ever met, but the stronger attacked the other
and, if victorious, plundered her, and that without any consideration
for the friendly relations that might at the time exist between their
respective countries. The age of the robber barons had passed away, to
be succeeded by a somewhat less immoral state of society in which the
powerful refrained from preying upon their countrymen but recognized
no law of justice in dealing with foreigners. Judged by our standards,
Dampier and Drake were pirates; Pizzaro and Cortes, bandits.
Smith, with a less acute sense of honor and a lower regard for right,
might have amassed a ready fortune in the days when such qualities as
his ensured wealth to the unscrupulous adventurers on land and sea,
whose predatory careers were countenanced and abetted by monarchs and
men in high places. In his latter years, when embittered by his failure
to secure money for legitimate exploration, he writes:[1] “Had I set
myself to persuade men that I knew of a mine of gold, as I know many to
have done in sheer deception; or had I advanced some wild scheme for
a passage to the South Sea; or some plot to loot a foreign monastery;
or the equipment of a fleet to make prizes of rich East Indiamen;
or letters of marque to rob some poor merchant or honest fisherman,
multitudes with their money would have contended to be first employed.”
[1] Here, and in a few instances in the following pages, I have made
slight changes in the wording, without affecting the meaning, of
Smith’s expressions. Although he is a very clear writer, the English of
Shakespeare’s time is not always readily understandable by us.--C. H.
F-L.
Queen Elizabeth, the wisest and the most humane sovereign of her
time, had ample excuse for the license which she extended to her sea
captains in the matter of attacking the Spanish possessions and ships.
It was a measure of self-defence, designed for the protection of the
liberties and religion of her subjects against the aggressive power of
Spain, which, after the discovery of America, bid fair, unless checked,
to make her the mistress of the world. Smith was in his ninth year when
our dauntless ancestors, by shattering the great Armada, scotched the
pride of Philip and halted his ambition. This was of all naval battles,
perhaps, the most momentous to the Anglo-Saxon race and certainly of
vital consequence to America, for had Philip’s fleet gained a victory
on that occasion, we, as a nation, had never been. It is more than
probable that the old religion would have been re-established in
England, with a stop to the march of liberty and independence, and
certain that Spain would have found no obstacle to the acquisition
of the entire American continent. The immediate effect of England’s
victory was to set her on the highway to the naval supremacy of the
world, and the generation to which John Smith belonged maintained a
constant struggle for the command of the seas. Later generations of
Englishmen carried on the contest with Holland and afterwards with
France.
We have seen that John Smith lived in a period of the world that
afforded the adventurer ample and varied scope for the exercise of
talents and energy, but in any other age than his own a man of Smith’s
extraordinary parts must have taken a prominent place among his
contemporaries. In the period following the decline of the Roman power,
when the nations of Europe were in the formative stage, such a man
would surely have been one of the great dukes (_duces_), or leaders who
founded dynasties of kings. At the present day he might be an explorer,
a captain of industry, or a statesman--for Smith had the qualities that
ensure success in any walk of life.
It is a wonderful and inspiring story, that of the stripling who,
without money or friends, boldly left his native land and, abandoning
himself to the chance currents of a strange world, at the age when the
modern schoolboy is seeking distinction on the football field, was
learning the art of arms in the practical school of war. Dame Fortune
surely smiled upon the errant boy and, whilst she led him into constant
adventure and danger, as frequently saw him safely out of them.
During his checkered career as a soldier of fortune his lot is often
cast in hard places and his life is constantly endangered. He is
shipwrecked and narrowly escapes drowning. Robbed and landed upon a
foreign shore with empty purse, he is forced to sell his cloak in
order to meet his needs. Like Jonah of old, he is thrown overboard by
a superstitious crew, but contrives to swim to an uninhabited island.
He is sorely wounded in battle and captured by the Turks, who sell him
into slavery.
The life was always arduous, for in those days mere travel was beset
by dangers and difficulty, but as we follow the lad in his adventures
we are cheered by many a bright spot and many a fine success. For John
Smith was never the kind to be depressed or defeated by adversity.
Indeed, he reminds one of those toys, called “bottle imps,” that may be
rolled over in any direction but cannot be made to lie down. Hardly has
he met with a reverse than he sets about repairing it and always with
success. To-day he is cold, hungry, and half clad, his purse as flat as
a flounder, but soon afterwards we see him going gayly on his way with
a pocket full of sequins, his share in a prize which he had helped to
capture. He wins his spurs in the Low Countries and in the war against
the Turks is granted a coat of arms for the exploit of defeating three
of the enemy’s champions in single combat. His military services earn
for him the title of captain and the command of a regiment of horse.
All these things, and many more equally remarkable, befall John Smith
before he has reached the age of twenty-four. He has now spent eight
years abroad, except for a brief return to England, and all this time
he is fighting on land and at sea, or roaming through foreign countries
in search of experience and adventure. Keenly observant always, he
extracts from each occasion--as the bee gathers honey from every
flower--some knowledge to be turned to useful account in later life.
Smith has no other purpose during this early period of his life than
to learn what he can of the world and the practice of arms--in short
to qualify himself for a life of action in an age when brawn is no
less essential to success than brain. It is a stern school in which
he acquires his training but an effective one, and he makes the most
of his opportunities. We see the expansion of his mind keeping pace
with the development of his muscle, until the Captain John Smith who
joins the colonists bound for Virginia appears as a man of perfect
physique and mature judgment. It is not improbable that the hardships
and exposure of his life may have sown the seeds of disease but, if
so, he has not contributed to such a condition by his habits. In that
day the soldiers of all nations were addicted to brawling, drinking,
pillaging, and gambling. But these practices had no attraction for
Smith. His sword never lagged in the scabbard on good occasion for its
use, but he was no swashbuckler seeking unnecessary trouble; he drank
wine sparingly but found no pleasure in gluttony; he paid for what he
took, even in an enemy’s country and counted it a disgrace to rob a
defenceless man; in the matter of money, as in everything else, he was
the most generous of mortals and had rather hand a man his purse than
to win that of the other by dicing. Withal he did not set himself up
to be better than his fellows and we have the testimony of two of his
countrymen, who followed him through the wars in Transylvania, that he
was respected and beloved by his comrades and the soldiers under his
command.
Hitherto Smith has been associated with men whose experience was
greater than his own. They have been his masters, both in the sense of
teachers and commanders. As a subordinate he has performed his duties
so well as to call forth the praise and admiration of his superiors.
Now we find him going out to a land which is equally strange to him
and to his companions. No man of them enjoys the advantage of knowing
more than the others about those distant parts and their people. Rank
and money will count for little in the new life. Each man’s worth will
be measured by his character and his actions. Under such conditions, a
man of Smith’s extraordinary ability must sooner or later become the
leader, even among others much older than himself.
The foundation of Virginia and, as I have said, that of the United
States was laid by Captain John Smith in spite of tremendous
difficulties. Some of these were such as would naturally attend the
settlement of a strange land among hostile inhabitants, but it is
not too much to say that the greater part of them were due to the
incompetence of the colonists and their constant quarrels among
themselves. More than once they brought affairs to such a pass that
nothing but the prompt and energetic action of Smith saved the colony
from total destruction.
These differences broke out before they had reached the shores of
America, and we see Captain John Smith landed in chains, a prisoner
under absurd charges trumped up by pettifoggers who are envious of
his evident fitness for command and accuse him of a design to usurp
it. They scheme to send him back to England, but at the very outset
they learn that they cannot dispense with the services of this, the
ablest man among them. It is he who shows them how to fortify the
settlement. He repels the attacks of the Indians. He and he only, dares
lead exploring expeditions into unknown regions. Captured by the most
powerful chief of that part of the country, Smith converts him into
an ally. He makes treaties with the surrounding tribes and secures
their friendship for the settlers. Time and again, when improvidence
has brought famine upon the colonists, he saves them from starvation
by procuring supplies at the risk of his life. In short he continually
preserves this mixed company of malcontents and incompetents from the
worst consequences of their folly and controls them with the firmness
and tact of a master. In his dealings with the Indians, he carefully
avoids unnecessary bloodshed or harshness, frequently sacrificing
prudence at the dictate of humanity. Yet he gained the respect of
the savages by his courage, steadfastness, honesty and--when occasion
demanded--by the weight of his strong arm, for Captain John Smith was
no less stern than just.
In the days when news traveled slowly and was often delivered by word
of mouth, the truth of distant events was hard to ascertain, and great
men were frequently the victims of malice and envy. Smith, like many
another, failed to receive at the hands of his countrymen the honor
and recognition which he deserved. They had been misled by extravagant
fables of the wealth of America and were disappointed that Smith did
not send home cargoes of gold, spices, and other things which the
country did not produce. False tales of his tyranny over the colonists
and his cruelty to the savages had preceded his return to England, and
he found himself in disfavor. He made two voyages to New England, as
he called the region which still bears that name, but little came of
them. This was mainly on account of the determination of the promoters
to search for gold lodes where none existed. Smith with rare foresight
strove to persuade his contemporaries that they had better develop
commerce in the products of the sea and the field. Few would listen
to him, however, whilst the rich argosies of Spain, freighted with
ore from South America, inflamed their minds with visions of similar
treasures in the north. The spirit of speculation had taken possession
of the country. Smith could obtain money for none but wild or dishonest
ventures and in such he would not engage. His generous soul disdained
the pursuit of mere wealth, and we see him, after having “lived near
thirty-seven years in the midst of wars, pestilence, and famine, by
which many a hundred thousand died” about him, passing his last days
in the comparative poverty which had been his condition through life.
Captain John Smith had not yet reached the prime of life--indeed, he
was hardly more than forty years of age--when he was compelled to
retire from active life. Despairing of honorable employment, he settled
down to write the many books that issued from his pen. It would be
difficult to surmise what valuable services he might, with better
opportunity, have performed for his country, during this last decade
of his life. The time was well spent, however, that he occupied in the
composition of his life and historical works. He is a clear and terse
writer. We are seldom at a loss to fully understand him, and the only
complaint that we feel disposed to make against Captain John Smith as
a writer is that he too often fails to give an account of his own part
in the stirring events which he records. In fact he combined with the
modesty usually associated with true greatness, the self-confidence of
the man whose ultimate reliance is upon an all-powerful Providence.
“If you but truly consider,” he writes in the history of Virginia,
“how many strange accidents have befallen these plantations and myself,
you cannot but conceive God’s infinite mercy both to them and to
me.... Though I have but my labor for my pains, have I not much reason
publicly and privately to acknowledge it and to give good thanks?”
Few men have compassed in fifty years of life so much of noble action
and inspiring example as did John Smith. He died, as he had lived, a
God-fearing, honorable gentleman, rich in the consciousness of a life
well spent and in the respect of all who knew him. He was a connecting
link between the old world and the new, and we, no less than England,
should keep his memory green.
THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE
John Smith
Gentleman Adventurer
I.
WHERE THERE’S A WILL THERE’S A WAY
Jack Smith is introduced to the reader--He takes part in the rejoicing
at the defeat of the Spanish Armada--His relations to the sons of
Lord Willoughby--He runs away from school and sells his books and
satchel--He is starting for London when his father dies--He is
apprenticed to a merchant and shipowner--He tires of life at the desk
and deserts the counting-house--His guardian consents to his going into
the world and furnishes him with ten shillings--Jack takes the road to
London with a bundle on his back--He meets Peregrine Willoughby.
It was the day following that memorable Monday in August, 1588, when
the English fleet scattered the galleons and galleasses of Spain and
Portugal and chased them into the North Sea. The bells were pealing
from every steeple and church tower in Merry England, whilst beacon
fires flashed their happy tidings along the chain of hill-tops from
Land’s End to John O’Groats. The country was wild with joy at the
glorious victory over the Great Armada, and well it might be, for
never was a fight more gallant nor a cause more just. It was night and
long past the hour when the honest citizens of Good Queen Bess’s realm
were wont to seek their couches and well-earned repose, but this night
excitement ran too high to admit of the thought of sleep.
In the little village of Willoughby, Master Gardner, portly and
red-faced, was prepared to keep the D’Eresby Arms open until daylight
despite law and custom. The villagers who passed up and down the one
street of the hamlet exchanging greetings and congratulations had more
than a patriotic interest in the great event, for at least half of them
had sons or brothers amongst the sturdy souls who had flocked from
every shire and town to their country’s defence at the first call for
help.
Beside the fountain in the market place, interested spectators of the
scene, stood a lusty lad and an elderly man, bowed by broken health.
“The Lord be praised that He hath let me live to see this glorious
day,” said the man, reverently and with a tremor in his voice. “Our
England hath trounced the proud Don, my son. I’ faith! ’tis scarce to
be believed that our little cockle-shells should overmatch their great
vessels of war. Thank the Lord, lad, that thou wast born in a land
that breeds men as staunch as the stuff from which their ships are
fashioned. If one who served--with some distinction if I say it--under
the great Sir Francis, might hazard a prediction, I would say that the
sun of England hath risen over the seas never to set.”
“Would I had been there, Sir!” cried the boy with eyes aglow.
“Thou, manikin!” replied his father smiling, as he patted the bare
head. “Thou! But it gladdens my heart that a Smith of Willoughby fought
with Drake on the _Revenge_ in yester battle and I’ll warrant that my
brother William demeaned himself as becomes one of our line.”
“And thus will I one day,” said the lad earnestly.
“Nay, nay child!” quickly rejoined the man. “Harbor not such wild
designs John, for thou art cast for a farmer. Thou must train thy hand
to the plow and so dismiss from thy mind all thought of the sea. Come,
let us return. Thy mother will be aweary waiting.”
Perhaps it is not strange that Master George Smith, who had followed
the sea in his younger days, should have sought to dissuade his son
from thought of a similar course. The career of adventure had not
resulted in any improvement of the father’s fortune. On the contrary,
he had finally returned home with empty pockets and wrecked health to
find the farm run down and the mother whom he had loved most dearly,
dead. Now, feeling that but few more years of life remained to him, it
was his aim to improve the property and his hope that John would grow
up to be a thrifty farmer and take care of his mother and the younger
children.
Master George Smith came of a family of armigers, or gentlemen, and was
accounted a well-to-do farmer in those parts. His holding lay within
the estate of the Baron Willoughby, the Lord of the Manor, and he
held his lands in perpetuity on what was called a quit rent. This may
have consisted of the yearly payment of a few shillings, a firkin of
butter, or a flitch of bacon--any trifle in short which would suffice
to indicate the farmer’s acknowledgment of the Baron as his overlord.
In the earlier feudal period, lands were granted in consideration of
military service. The nobleman received his broad acres from the king
upon condition of bringing a certain number of armed retainers into
the field whenever summoned. The lord, in order to have the necessary
retainers always at command, divided up his domain into small holdings
amongst men who pledged themselves to join his banner when called
upon. As a reminder of his obligation, each retainer was required to
make some slight payment to his lord every year, and this was deemed
an acquittance of rent. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, feudal
tenure--that is the holding of lands in consideration of military
service--had ceased to exist, but the custom of paying quit rent
continued and it is observed in many parts of England to this day.
Master Smith sent his son to the grammar school in the neighboring
village of Alford. It was perhaps one of the many schools of the kind
founded by the wise young king, Edward the Sixth, for the benefit of
the great mass of his subjects who could not afford to have their sons
educated at the more expensive colleges. John was an apt scholar and
made good progress, but even in early boyhood his mind was, as he tells
us, “set upon brave adventure.” And so, although he applied himself
diligently to learning whilst at school, he was impatient to cut loose
from his books and go into the world of action.
This is not difficult to understand when we consider the lad’s
temperament and the circumstances in which he was placed. Willoughby
and Alford were on the coast. The people were for the most part
sea-faring men. Many of them made voyages to the continent of Europe
and some had visited more distant parts. Like most seamen, they were
doubtless always ready to tell of their experiences, and we may be sure
that little Jack Smith was an eager listener to their yarns.
He was nine years of age when England throbbed with excitement at the
approach of the great Armada of Spain. He saw all the able-bodied men
of his village hurrying south to join their country’s defenders, and
without doubt he wished that he were old enough to go with them. A few
weeks later, the gallant men of Willoughby came home to harvest their
fields, undisturbed by fear of an invasion of the Dons. Every one of
them had done his full share in the fight. Jack’s uncle had served on
Francis Drake’s ship. That fierce sea-hawk was in the thick of the
strife and it was a brave story that Master William Smith had to relate
to his delighted nephew.
As the lad grew older, he began to read of the glorious deeds of his
countrymen in former days, stories of battle and adventure on land and
sea, of knights and sea captains, of shipwreck and discovery. Books
were costly and hard to come by in those days and very few would be
found in the home of even a prosperous farmer. But Jack Smith was
fortunate in the fact that Robert and Peregrine, the sons of Lord
Willoughby, were his schoolfellows and playmates. Through them he had
access to the castle with its grand hall full of armor and weapons, its
gallery of old portraits, and above all its library, containing many of
the kind of books from which he derived the greatest pleasure.
More than that, Lord Willoughby was one of the most renowned warriors
of his day. On the Continent his name was linked with those of Sir
Philip Sidney and Sir Walter Raleigh. His feats of arms were recorded
by historians and sung in ballads. One of these, which you may find in
a curious old book named “Percy’s Reliques,” commences thus:
“The fifteenth day of July,
With glistening spear and shield,
A famous fight in Flanders,
Was foughten in the field.
The most courageous officers
Were English captains three,
But the bravest man in battel
Was the brave Lord Willoughbie.”
This song was composed at about the time that Jack was at school, and
you may depend upon it that he with every one else in Willoughby sang
it, for they were all right proud of their lord.
Lady Willoughby was, of course, fond of recounting her husband’s brave
exploits. He was at this time fighting in the Low Countries, and at
every opportunity he sent her word of the adventures that befell
him. Parts of these letters she would read to her sons, and Jack was
often present. At other times she would sit in a large oaken chair
before the great fireplace in the hall, the three lads and two huge
stag-hounds grouped about her feet in the ruddy light of the log fire.
Many a delightful evening was thus spent, the stately lady telling of
the stirring deeds performed by her lord and the boys listening with
breathless interest.
During one winter the little circle received a welcome addition in
the son of Count Ployer. The young Frenchman was in England for the
purpose of finishing his education. His father was a friend of Lord
Willoughby and in company with the latter was fighting in the Low
Countries. The young nobleman was thus in a position to contribute his
share to the stories of military adventure in which they were all so
deeply interested.
As he walked home in the dark after one of these recitals, Jack would
flourish his staff and shout words of command to imaginary followers,
or tilt at a bush, or wage a furious duel with a milestone. The baying
of “Sir Roger,” the old watchdog at the homestead, would recall him
to his senses, and he would steal up to his truckle bed in the attic
wishing that he were a man and his own master.
By the time Jack reached the age of thirteen, the desire to seek his
fortune in the world had become too strong to be longer resisted. His
mother was dead, his brother and sister were younger than himself and
his father’s mind was still set upon making him a farmer. There was no
one to whom he could turn for advice or assistance and so, with the
self-reliance which he displayed through after-life, Jack determined to
take matters into his own hands. The only things of any value which he
possessed were his school books and satchel. These he sold for a few
shillings. With this money in his pocket he was on the point of setting
out for London, when the sudden death of his father upset his plan.
Master Smith left the farm to his son John, but placed it and the boy
in the hands of a Master Metham, who was to act as guardian of both
until such time as Jack should attain the legal age to inherit. This
Master Metham was a trader, and he thought that he was doing very well
by Jack when he put him in the way of learning business. He apprenticed
the lad to Master Thomas Sendall, a shipowner and merchant of the
neighboring seaport of Lynn. At first this arrangement was decidedly to
Jack’s liking, for his guardian held out the prospect of voyages to the
many foreign countries visited by Master Sendall’s vessels. But in this
Jack was disappointed. Sailor-boys his master could easily get, but it
was not such a ready matter to find a bright youngster for work in the
counting-house. So Jack found himself pinned down to a desk in sight of
the busy wharves and shipping. Here for some months he sat chafing at
the inactivity and at length he determined to run away.
One night he slipped out of the warehouse in which he slept and, with
his bundle of clothes slung on a stick over his shoulder, started for
Willoughby, which he reached after a few days’ tramp. Jack went boldly
up to his guardian’s house and told him that he had run away from his
master, feeling assured that there was little chance of travel whilst
he remained in his employment.
“Nor will I return,” said Jack in conclusion, “for I am determined
to see the world and I beg of you to supply me with the means.” Now
this speech smacked somewhat of over-confidence, for in those days
truant apprentices were severely dealt with and Jack was liable to
have been sent back to his master, who might then have flogged him.
However, Master Metham knew that his friend Sendall would not wish to
be troubled with an unwilling apprentice, and a plan occurred to him
for curing Jack of his desire to roam. His idea was to give the lad
so little money that he could not go very far with it and would soon
experience a taste of hardship. This Master Metham thought would bring
his ward home, eager to return to his desk and settle down to the sober
life of a merchant’s clerk. The scheme might have worked very well with
many boys, but Jack was not of the kind that turn back.
“As you will,” said Master Metham, after some thought. “Here is the
money, and now go where you please.”
With that he handed our hero ten shillings.
“What is this?” cried Jack in amazement. “Ten shillings! Surely you
jest Master Metham.”
“Not so,” replied his guardian, assuming a stern air. “Take the money
and begone, or return it to me and go back to Master Sendall within the
hour.”
Jack thrust the coins into his pocket and turned on his heel without
another word. The next minute he was striding resolutely along the
highroad to London.
As Master Metham watched the receding figure of his ward from the
window, he could not help feeling admiration for the boy’s pluck, but a
grim smile played about the merchant’s lips as he said to himself, “And
I mistake not, yon humorist will be coming back in a fortnight or less,
with pinched face and tightened waistbelt.”
But Master Metham proved to be a poor prophet. Several years passed
before he set eyes on Jack again.
The journey to the capital was not unpleasant. The time was early
summer, when the fields are clad in the greenest grass, with a thick
sprinkling of wild flowers and the hedgerows give off the sweet smell
of honeysuckle and violets. Shade trees lined the road, so that Jack
was able to push along, even in the noonday heat, without serious
discomfort. He was a strong, healthy lad, to whom a tramp of twenty
miles in a day was no great matter. Often a passing wagoner gave him
a lift and sometimes shared with him a meal of bread and bacon washed
down with a draught of home-brewed ale. Milkmaids, going home with
their pails brimful, would offer him a drink, and occasionally a farmer
would ask him to the house to join in the family meal. He never failed
to find a lodging for the night if it was only in a barn or a stable.
Thus Jack, with a thriftiness which would have chagrined Master
Metham, had he known of it, contrived to husband his little store of
money and, indeed, he had not broken into it when a happy incident
relieved him of all further anxiety on the score of ways and means.
He was plodding along one day when two horsemen overtook him. They
looked back in passing and one of them suddenly reined in his horse and
turned it round.
“Not Jack Smith!” he cried in evident delight. “Whither away comrade?”
“I am setting out on my travels, Peregrine,” replied Jack, trying to
put on the air of a man of the world.
“And I also,” said the son of Lord Willoughby, for it was he, “but
come, you must join us, and we can exchange the news as we ride along.”
He ordered one of the two grooms who followed them to give his horse
over to Jack and the other to take the wayfarer’s bundle. Having
presented his young friend to the tutor and temporary guardian who
accompanied him, Peregrine drew alongside of Jack whilst the latter
told his story. The young lord in turn explained that he was on his way
to Orleans in France, there to join his elder brother and complete his
studies abroad after the manner of young noblemen of that day--and of
this, for that matter. He insisted that Jack should accompany him as
his guest, saying that it would be time enough to think of other plans
after they should have reached their destination.
As we see Jack thus fairly launched upon his adventures, we cannot help
smiling to think how it would have surprised good Master Metham to
learn how far ten shillings could carry our hero.
II.
LONDON TOWN IN SHAKESPEARE’S DAY
Old London as it looked from Highgate Hill--The travelers put up
at “Ye Swanne” near New Gate--The start for White Hall to see Sir
Francis Walsingham and the Queen--Their wonderment at the strange
house signs--The saucy apprentices arouse their anger--Old Paule’s
Cathedral and some celebrated mansions--The Royal Palace and a state
procession--They go to the Globe, Will Shakespeare’s theatre--The boys
see their first play in company with Doctor Hollister--Old London
Bridge, its curious houses and its grizzly ornaments.
When our travelers reached the top of Highgate Hill, from which an
extensive view could be had in every direction, they halted to survey
the scene. London lay below, stretched along the banks of the Thames,
and still several miles distant. In Queen Elizabeth’s reign it was
a small place compared with what it is today. Its greatest distance
across was then less than two miles, whereas, now it is nearly thirty.
Nevertheless, London was by far the greatest city in England and
amongst the largest in the world.
Jack and his companions looked down upon a closely packed collection of
buildings within a wall whose moat, no longer needed for defence, had
become half choked with refuse and rank vegetation. The streets were so
narrow that, with the exception of Cheapside, which traversed the city
from end to end, they were not discernible at that distance. The mass
of red-tiled roofs was broken here and there by a market place or a
churchyard and agreeably relieved by the gardens which lay at the backs
of most of the houses. One hundred and more spires of parish churches
shot up in relief against the background of the silvery river, for in
those days the Thames was a clear and pure stream upon which swans
disported even below London Bridge.
Scattering suburbs extended from the walls of the city in several
directions. In Elizabeth’s time, the noblemen and wealthier citizens
had deserted their old-time palaces and mansions in the filthy and
crowded metropolis for healthier residences among the adjacent
fields. Perhaps, Baynard Castle, mentioned in the opening scene of
Shakespeare’s Richard the Third, was the only one of the old homes of
the nobility occupied by its owner at that time. Most of the others
had been given over to tenements in which the poorer people crowded.
A large part of the London that the boys gazed upon in wonder and
admiration was destroyed by the Great Fire in the year 1666.
It must be remembered that, despite the comparison we have made of
the London of Shakespeare’s time and the city of today, the former
was relatively of greater importance than the latter and exercised a
greater influence on the affairs of the nation. It was the residence of
the monarch and of all the important members of the government. Every
person of note in the kingdom had a town house. By far the greater part
of the business of the country was transacted at the capital. It set
the fashion and furnished the news for the whole island. London was, in
short, the heart and brains of England at this period.
It was late in the evening when the travelers, tired and hungry,
passed through New Gate which, like Lud Gate and some others of the
many entrances to the city, was used as a prison. A little later and
they must have remained at one of the inns outside the walls for the
night, or have left their horses and entered by the postern, for
the portcullis was closed at sundown. They put up at “Ye Swanne” on
Cheapside and hardly one hundred yards from the gate. It was a hostelry
much frequented by north-country gentlemen. Master Marner, the host,
gave them the best accommodations his house afforded for the sake of
Lord Willoughby, who had often been his guest and, in fact, always
lodged with him when in London. That nobleman, long accustomed to the
freedom and frank comradeship of the camp, found himself much more
at ease in one of Master Marner’s cosy rooms than in a chamber at
Whitehall.
Neither of the lads had ever been in London, and after they had supped
in the common room--which corresponded to the _café_ of a modern
hotel--they were eager to go out and see the great sights of which they
had heard so much. But to this Doctor Hollister, the tutor, would not
consent, for in those days the capital was infested by footpads and
brawlers after nightfall and the patrols of the watch afforded scant
protection to wayfarers in the unlighted streets. The explanation
of all this only whetted the desire of the lads to go abroad on the
chance of witnessing some duel or fracas but Peregrine, at least,
was under the authority of the Doctor and Jack by accepting his
friend’s hospitality had placed himself in a similar position. So they
restrained their impatience and went early to bed as all honest folk
did at that period.
The following morning Doctor Hollister, accompanied by his young
charges, set out for Whitehall carrying a letter from Lady Willoughby
to Sir Francis Walsingham. The royal palace was at the extreme western
end of London, whilst the Swan Inn stood hard by New Gate, at the
eastern extremity, so that in order to reach their destination the
travelers had to traverse the full extent of the city. A citizen of
London at that time, having such a distance to cover, would most likely
have taken a wherry at one of the many water stairs, where numbers of
such boats were in waiting at all hours of the day and night. Jack
and Peregrine, eager as they were to see the sights of the metropolis,
would not hear of anything but walking and so the party set out at an
early hour, taking their way along Cheapside, or the Cheap as it was
then called.
Everything they saw was novel to the boys, neither of whom had ever
been in a town larger than Lynn. The gable roofs and projecting upper
stories of the houses were much like what they were accustomed to at
home, but they had seldom seen one of three stories and here were many
rising to four and five. In the narrow side streets which they passed,
the dwellings approached so closely that persons sitting at their upper
windows might easily converse with their neighbors across the way, or
even shake hands with them by leaning out.
Before almost every house hung a painted board suspended from an iron
bracket, similar to the sign of the “D’Eresby Arms” displayed by the
village tavern at Willoughby. For a moment the boys thought that they
must be in a town full of inns and Doctor Hollister was mightily amused
by the puzzled expression with which they looked from one to another
of the crude and curious pictures. The explanation was simple enough
when the tutor made it. In the reign of Elizabeth the simple device of
numbers to distinguish the different houses of a street had not yet
been thought of and so one saw all manner of things pictured and hung
over the entrances. There were angels, dragons, castles, mountains,
Turks, bears, foxes, birds, books, suns, mitres, ships, and in fact
every conceivable kind of object. So, a man wishing to indicate his
place of abode might say: “I lodge with the widow Toy, at the sign of
the _Bell_ in Paule’s Churchyard” and, since there was at the time
a veritable widow Toy, living in a house on the east side of the
churchyard and distinguished by the sign of a Bell, who doubtless took
in lodgers when favorable opportunity offered, it is not impossible
that one or another of the acquaintances made by our party during their
stay in London uttered precisely such a remark to them.
As our friends passed along the street, apprentices standing in front
of their master’s shops invited their patronage or made saucy comments
upon their appearance for, although they were dressed in their best
clothes, it was easy to see that a country tailor had fashioned their
garments.
“Ho Richard! Dick Hopple!” cried one of these prentices to an
acquaintance across the street. “Cast thy gaze upon his worship and the
little worshipfuls going to Paule’s to buy a sixtieth.” This was an
allusion to the lottery under royal patronage which was conducted in
a booth set up in the churchyard of the cathedral. It attracted many
countrymen to the capital, who could generally afford to purchase no
more than a fractional share, perhaps one-tenth, of a ticket.
“Peace boy!” said Doctor Hollister, sternly.
“Honorificabilitudinitatibus!” glibly replied the lad with a mock
obeisance. This extraordinary word, which Shakespeare had put into the
mouth of one of his characters, caught the fancy of the London populace
as a similar verbal monstrosity--Cryptoconcodycyphernostamata--did
about twenty-five years ago.
Doctor Hollister had the greatest difficulty in restraining the boys
from replying to these gibes with their fists and Jack, in particular,
begged earnestly to be permitted to “lay just one of them by the
heels.” But the Doctor had been a chorister of Paule’s in his boyhood
and he knew the formidable character of the London apprentices and how,
at the cry of “Clubs! Clubs!” they would swarm with their staves to the
aid of one of their number.
Presently they came to the great cathedral, and were surprised to
find that the holy edifice was used as a public thoroughfare, even
animals being driven across its nave, whilst hawkers displayed their
wares around the columns and gallants and gossips lounged about on the
seats--all this, too, during the celebration of divine service. The
lads who had been brought up in reverence of their country church were
shocked at the sights around them and little disposed to linger in the
building.
Leaving the churchyard of the cathedral, Doctor Hollister led the way
down Dowgate Hill to the water front, wishing to afford the boys
sight of two unusually interesting buildings. One of these was Baynard
Castle, of which mention has already been made, but the other had the
greater attraction for Jack on account of being the residence of his
hero, Sir Francis Drake. It had formerly been known as Eber House, when
it was the palace of Warwick, the “Kingmaker,” whom you will remember
as the titular character of “The Last of the Barons.” Later the place
was occupied by that “false, fleeting, perjured Clarence” whose dream
is one of the most impressive passages in Shakespeare’s tragedy,
Richard the Third.
Passing Westminster and the little village of Charing Cross, our
travelers came upon the Palace of Whitehall fronting upon the Thames
and with Saint James’s Park at its back. In Elizabeth’s time this royal
residence was the scene of such splendid entertainments as marked its
occupancy by her father, Henry the Eighth. At this period it stood
outside of London on the outskirts of what was the distinct city of
Westminster.
Sir Francis Walsingham received Doctor Hollister kindly and promised to
facilitate the journey of the party to France. The Queen was about to
go to the royal chapel in state and the minister secured a favorable
position from which the country visitors had a good view of Elizabeth
and her attendants. In the meanwhile a secretary was instructed to
write the passports and letters to be delivered to the Doctor before
his departure.
The royal procession appeared to the sound of trumpets blown by six
heralds who walked in advance. First, after them, came gentlemen of the
court and noblemen, richly dressed and bareheaded; next the Chancellor,
bearing the state seal in a red silk purse, on one side of him an
official carrying the royal scepter, on the other one bearing the
sword of state in a red velvet scabbard, studded with golden _fleur de
lis_. Then followed the Queen with majestic mien, her oval face fair
but wrinkled; her black eyes small but pleasing. Her nose was somewhat
aquiline and her lips thin and straight. She wore false hair of bright
red topped by a small crown.
As she moved slowly along between lines of courtiers and representatives
of foreign nations, she spoke graciously to one and another and, when
occasion needed, with fluency in French or Italian. When one spoke to
her, he did so kneeling, and whenever she turned toward a group, all
fell upon their knees. It was these ceremonies that made the Court such
an irksome place to bluff soldiers such as Lord Willoughby.
The Queen was guarded on each side by the gentlemen pensioners, fifty
in number, with gilt battle axes. Following her came the ladies of the
Court, for the most part dressed in handsome gowns of white taffeta or
some other rich stuff.
In the antechamber a number of petitions were presented to Her Majesty,
who received them graciously amid acclamations of “Long live our
Queen!” to which she replied, smiling, “I thank you, my good people!”
Upon the return of the royal party from the chapel, Sir Francis
Walsingham ordered a meal, of which the principal features were roast
beef and ale, to be set before Doctor Hollister and his charges. They
were hungry and did ample justice to the minister’s hospitality. Sir
Francis then handed the Doctor his papers and wished the travelers
godspeed and a safe return.