day before them. The boys had never been to a theatre--indeed, there
were none outside of London--and the Doctor determined to take them
to the Globe which, under the management of William Shakespeare, was
fast becoming famous. The playhouse stood on the Surrey side of the
river a short distance above the bridge. The party took boat at the
palace stairs and were quickly rowed down and across the stream. They
landed near a circular tower-like building, topped by a flag-staff
and ensign, which the Doctor informed them was their destination. At
that period plays were performed only in the daytime and the party was
just in time for a performance. The enclosure--for it could hardly be
called a building--was open to the sky. Around the sides were tiers
of seats which accommodated the better class of spectators whilst the
“groundlings” stood in the central space before the booth-like erection
which contained the stage. There was no scenery, though the costumes
were rich and various, and the back and sides of the stage were
occupied by young gallants seated upon stools, for which privilege they
paid sixpence extra. The audience commented freely and loudly upon the
play and the acting and not infrequently the actors replied. Boys took
the female parts and bouquets had not come into use to express favor,
but an unpopular actor was sometimes subjected to a shower of ancient
eggs and rotten vegetables from the pit.
No doubt the play, crude as we should consider it, was a source of
wonder and delight to Jack and Peregrine who had never seen acting more
pretentious than the antics of the village mummers at the New Year
festival.
On the return home the party walked over London Bridge. At the entrance
tower they were startled to see the heads of some eight or ten
criminals stuck on the ends of spears. Two of these were quite fresh
and had a peculiarly ghastly appearance with their eyes staring open
and hair blowing in the breeze. But their attention was soon distracted
from this gruesome sight to the bridge itself which was one of the most
extraordinary structures in the country. It was entirely built over
by houses two and three stories in height. Through the centre ran an
arcade like a tunnel lined with shops. This strange viaduct, therefore,
was at once a bridge and a street as well as a roadway for heavy
wagons. In the stories above the shops, lived the owners of the latter.
They were also occupied by offices and in a few instances as private
lodgings.
Tired as the boys were when they reached their beds that night, they
lay talking for hours of the wonderful sights they had seen. At length
their remarks came in snatches and with mumbled speech as sleep
overtook them against their will.
“Jack,” said Peregrine, drowsily, “if you were Lord Mayor of London,
what would you do?”
“Give myself leave to fight a prentice,” muttered our hero, with closed
eyes.
III.
THE SOLDIER APPRENTICE
Jack goes to France with Peregrine--Is persuaded to turn homeward--He
starts for Paris and meets David Home--Sees the capital and spends
his money--Takes boat on the Seine for the coast and arrives without
a penny in his pocket--Enters the service of Captain Duxbury and
begins to learn the practice of arms--Sees service in the army of
Henry of Navarre--Goes to the Low Countries and fights against the
Spaniards--Sails for Scotland and is shipwrecked--Returns to Willoughby
and continues his training with Signor Polaloga.
Our friends arrived at Orleans without adventure or mishap. Sir Robert
Bertie, the elder son of Lord Willoughby d’Eresby, was unaffectedly
pleased to see his old playmate, Jack Smith. On reflection, however,
and after consultation with Doctor Hollister, he decided that the young
truant could not do better than return to his guardian. When a few days
had been spent in seeing the sights and the tutor had intimated that
it was time the young noblemen settled down to their studies, Robert
frankly expressed his opinion with regard to Jack.
Peregrine was moved to tears at the thought of losing his companion
and thoughtlessly charged his brother with a selfish desire to be rid
of their guest. “Nay,” said Robert, kindly laying his hand upon our
hero’s shoulder, “Jack knows me too well to believe that. In truth
nothing would better please me than that he should stay with us, but he
has work to do at home. No, Willoughby is the place for thee lad--and
would I were going with thee. Tomorrow we see Jack started on his way
Peregrine, and when we come back in a year or two it shall be to find
him a full-blown farmer, with a buxom wife perchance.”
Jack was anything but pleased at the prospect, but he had too much
sense to raise an objection to the suggestion, and besides he was duly
grateful for the generous hospitality he had enjoyed at the expense of
his friends for some weeks.
The following morning the sons of Lord Willoughby accompanied Jack for
some distance beyond the town on the first stage of his journey to
Paris which lay about seventy miles to the north of Orleans. When at
length they bid him good-bye with genuine regret at parting, Robert
put a well-filled purse into his hand and Peregrine gave him one of
the heavy, cumbersome pistols that were then in use. It was the first
weapon that Jack ever owned and he stuck it in his belt with a great
deal of satisfaction.
A few years later, in the course of his wanderings, Jack accidentally
came across Robert and Peregrine Bertie at Siena in Italy. There they
lay recovering from severe wounds received in an affair that reflected
greatly to their honor. After that meeting it is doubtful if the paths
of these early friends again crossed in life, but the young sons of
the famous Lord Willoughby played such important parts in our hero’s
career that the reader will surely be interested in knowing something
of their fate. In 1601 Robert succeeded to the title and estates of
his father on the death of the latter. As the twelfth Baron Willoughby
he upheld the military prestige of the family and added fresh laurels
to those gathered by a long line of soldier ancestors. He was created
Earl Lindsay in the reign of James the First and during the civil war
that terminated in the execution of Charles the First, he held the post
of commander-in-chief of the royal forces and was mortally wounded at
the battle of Edgehill. Peregrine became a barrister--a truly strange
occupation for a Bertie in those days--and practised law with some
distinction until his death in 1640.
We left our young hero on the road to Paris. His condition was very
different from that in which he left Willoughby for London, but he had
set out upon that journey with a light heart and abundant hope. Now
he was plodding towards the capital of France in a gloomy state of
mind. The idea of abandoning his venture and returning to the plow or,
worse yet, the dingy counting house of Master Sendall, was utterly
distasteful to him and his pride was touched by the thought of so lame
a conclusion to the boastful display of independence he had made to
his guardian. Having taken Robert Bertie’s money on the understanding
that he would use it to return to England he felt bound to do so, but
he began to wish that he had declined the gift and had gone on his way
as poor in purse but as free in action as when he turned his back on
his native village. Indeed, before he had finished his supper at the
inn where he stopped at nightfall, Jack had almost decided to retrace
his steps on the morrow, hand Robert his purse untouched and regain
his freedom. But one of those chance circumstances that lead to the
most important results in the lives of all of us, decided the matter in
another way.
Only persons of distinction, who were willing to pay for the privilege,
occupied private rooms in the hostelries of those days. Jack was
pleased to find a fellow countryman sharing his bedchamber. David Home,
for such was the young man’s name, proved to be an adventurer following
just such a life as our hero was desirous of entering upon. He was a
gentleman of good family, but at this time his fortunes were at a very
low ebb; in fact, he was not only penniless but weak from the effects
of a recent fever. Home was an entertaining talker and delighted Jack
with the recital of his exploits and experiences. Before they fell
asleep it had been agreed that they should continue the journey to
Paris in company. This they did, arriving in the course of a few days.
Home knew the city well, and under his guidance time passed quickly in
sight-seeing and amusement. Since their meeting Jack’s purse had been
generously placed at the disposal of his new friend, and when at length
our hero awoke to his obligation to continue the journey to England his
money had run very low.
Home was naturally sorry to see Jack, for whom he had acquired a strong
regard, leave, but he agreed with him that it was his duty to do so.
Home was far from ungrateful for the kindness he had experienced at
Jack’s hands and made all the return that was within his power when
he gave our hero letters to friends in Scotland who stood high at the
court of James the Sixth and might use their influence to further the
fortunes of the bearer. Jack sewed the letters in the lining of his
doublet and, taking boat on the Seine for the sea coast, arrived at
Havre de Grace without a penny in his pocket.
Whilst Jack was looking about for an opportunity to work his way across
the channel, not having the means to pay his passage, he fell in with
a Captain Joseph Duxbury, in the service of Henry of Navarre. When the
captain had heard the story of his young countryman he declared that
it would be a pity to return to the farm without any further taste of
adventure than had so far fallen to our hero’s lot, and he proposed
that he should enter his employment as an apprentice in the art of
war. It is needless to say that Jack could not resist this offer. The
camp was in sight and the captain assured him that he might at least
defer his return to England without breaking faith with his friend, Sir
Robert Bertie.
Jack thus found himself installed as page to Captain Duxbury who,
besides having taken a fancy to the lad, was really in need of such a
servant at the moment. The duties consisted chiefly in looking after
the captain’s arms, accoutrements and horse. They afforded Jack his
first introduction to the implements of war and gave him an opportunity
to learn to ride. In spare time his master taught him the use of the
various weapons and instructed him in sitting and managing the charger.
All this was interesting enough to Jack, who soon had his mind set
upon becoming a soldier, but, aside from a few skirmishes, he saw no
fighting before the end of the war threw his master out of employment.
Captain Duxbury was one of the many free lances of various nationalities
who at this period made a business of fighting and, if the truth must be
told, were generally ready to sell their services to the highest bidder
without regard to the cause of the conflict. Whilst this was true in
some degree of all, the English adventurers were usually found fighting
against the Spanish for whom they cherished the most intense hatred.
Following the peace in France, Captain Duxbury decided to go to the Low
Countries and Jack gladly accompanied him. But in the ensuing campaign,
although our hero remained in the troop commanded by his old master,
it was in the capacity of a fighting man in the ranks. In the army
commanded by Maurice of Nassau, Captain Duxbury’s troop of horse had an
ample share of work and Jack took a creditable part in several battles
of more or less importance.
Thrown out of service by another treaty of peace, our hero resolved to
try the effect of the presentation of the letters he had received from
David Home. Accordingly he made his way to Enkhuisen on the Zuyder Zee
and thence set sail for Leith. The vessel in which Jack--now usually
addressed as “John Smith”--had embarked was a small one, and when it
encountered a terrific storm in the North Sea it was at the mercy of
wind and water. The master and crew despaired of weathering the gale,
and after lowering the sails allowed the ship to drift whither it
would. It ran ashore and was totally wrecked, John being among the
fortunate few who escaped drowning. The land upon which they were
thrown was Lindisfarn, called the “Holy Isle,” near Berwick. Here John,
who had received injuries in the wreck from which a fever followed,
lay ill for some weeks. Upon recovering sufficiently he proceeded
to Scotland and called on the friends of David Home to whom he bore
introductions. They received him kindly and did all in their power
to make his visit pleasant, but they told him frankly that they had
neither the money nor the means to secure his advancement at court.
Under these circumstances John, whose health was still poor, determined
to return to his native place.
Somewhat to his surprise John found the good people of Willoughby
disposed to treat him as a hero, although he protested that he had
accomplished no more than to gain some little insight to the ways of
warfare. His estate under the able management of Master Metham--who was
now disposed to accord him the deference due to a man--had flourished
during his absence abroad. He had the means to dress and live as a
gentleman, which in those days was of even more consequence than it is
now. John was now in his twentieth year and had developed into a strong
muscular young man. Although not tall he was well knit and had acquired
from his military service an upright and graceful carriage and an air
of self-possession. When tricked out in new velvet doublet and trunks,
with ruff and feathered cap, and rapier dangling by his side, he made a
gallant figure and set the hearts of the maids of Willoughby aflutter
as he paced, not without pardonable pride, along the streets of the
village.
But there was too much sound sense in John’s composition to permit
him to enjoy this frivolous holiday life for long. Besides he had
now fully made up his mind to follow the calling of arms, and with
that decision came the determination to make of himself as thoroughly
capable a soldier as possible. Circumstances forced him for awhile to
pursue a life of peace, but he resolved to improve the interim by the
study of military tactics and the practice of arms. With this design
he betook him to a forest some miles from Willoughby and there went
into seclusion. It was summer time and a hut of boughs sufficed for
habitation. His servant supplied him with food and for occupation he
had brought a horse and some books and an assortment of arms. The horse
he first broke to the step and manœuvres of a military charger and then
used him in tilting with a lance at a ring suspended from the branch
of a tree. Among the books were “Polybius” and Machiavelli’s “Art of
War.” From these he learned a great deal of the theory--the science and
strategy--of his chosen profession.
Some of Captain John Smith’s biographers have affected to find cause
for amusement in the contemplation of this period of his career, but
we shall take another view of it when we find the lance practice and
the riding exercise showing their fruit in one of the most accomplished
soldiers on the Continent who is as a result enabled to defeat in three
successive encounters the champions of the Turkish army. Again we shall
appreciate the wisdom and foresight exhibited by our hero at this time
when we see the information gained in his studies turned to such
good account in the service of his superiors as to affect the issues
of battles and lead to his promotion from the ranks to an important
command.
The retreat to which John had betaken himself, although in the depths
of the forest, was not beyond the ken of human eye. Woodcutters and
charcoal burners carried to the surrounding towns strange stories of
a fierce horseman mounted on a gigantic steed who charged through the
sylvan avenues at a pace so terrific as to shake the earth for miles
round. At length the rumor of this weird cavalier reached the ears
of Signor Theodore Polaloga, an Italian who occupied the position of
master of horse to the Earl of Lincoln at his neighboring castle.
Whilst this gentleman discredited the supernatural features of the
story, he was forced to believe that a horseman for reasons of his
own was practising riding in the privacy of the forest. Being himself
the most expert equestrian in that part of the country and one of the
best in the kingdom, his curiosity to know more of the stranger was
naturally great.
Signor Polaloga had no difficulty in finding the military hermit and
John, who was beginning to weary of his retirement, received the
Italian cordially, and all the more so since he was well acquainted
with that gentleman’s reputation as a superb horseman. Such simple
hospitality as lay at his command John extended cheerfully to his
visitor, who accepted it with an air of frank comradeship and partook
heartily of a venison pasty, the contents of which he strongly
suspected to have been poached from the Earl’s preserves. When, after a
conversation that each found sufficiently interesting to prolong, the
equerry proposed a friendly joust, Jack was delighted to comply. Whilst
our hero soon learned that he was no match for the Italian, he had no
cause to be ashamed of himself, for the master of horse pronounced him
surprisingly proficient and declared that few young men of his age
could excel him in horsemanship or in handling the lance.
The following morning Signor Polaloga returned with an invitation
from the Earl to John to come and stay at Tattershall, as the castle
was named. John, who had heard of the Earl of Lincoln as an eccentric
nobleman and hard to please, might have respectfully declined this
flattering invitation had not the equerry clinched the matter by
mentioning the extensive stable of fine horses, the assortment of
various arms and the tilt-yard that would be at the disposal of the
guest. So John went to Tattershall, and to his surprise found the
Earl a very pleasant gentleman who bade him make himself as much at
home in the castle as though he owned it. John spent several weeks at
Tattershall. Signor Polaloga entered zealously into the instruction of
the young man, declaring that he had never before had so apt a pupil.
But with the progress of his skill the desire to exercise it in actual
conflict grew and, hearing rumors of renewed hostilities in Holland,
John bade adieu to his patron, the Earl, and his friend the master of
horse and returned to Willoughby with the intention of fitting himself
out for a campaign on the continent.
IV.
DUPED AND ROBBED
John returns to the Netherlands--Determines to go east and fight the
Turks--Meets a bogus French nobleman and his attendants--Goes to France
with them--They steal all his belongings and with the assistance of the
ship-master decamp--John sells his cloak and pursues the thieves--A
friend in need--Finds the robbers but can get no redress--Alone in a
strange land without cloak or purse--Secures some clothes and money and
turns back to the coast--Still determined to get to the Turkish war by
some means.
John entered upon his second campaign in the Netherlands under more
promising circumstances than at first. He was furnished with good arms
and accoutrements, an ample supply of fine clothing and a considerable
sum of money. Moreover, he was no longer a greenhorn. It is true that
he could not boast of much actual experience of warfare, but he had
learned to handle his weapons with unusual dexterity and was prepared
to give a good account of himself. He had, however, few opportunities
for display of his skill before the winter put an end to hostilities
for the time.
When the camps began to break up, John followed the stream of travel
towards the coast without any definite plan for his future movements.
He was beginning to tire of service in Holland, which had disappointed
his expectations, and was anxious to find a fresh field for adventure.
Rudolph the Second, Emperor of Germany, was waging war against the
Turks in Hungary and Transylvania. Here was an avenue to new scenes
and experiences, but the seat of war was on the other side of Europe
and the journey thence a long and expensive one. For that reason he
could find none among his late companions in arms who was going to the
Turkish war. Still he continued his journey to Rotterdam, hoping that
he might there fall in with some nobleman bound for the East, to whose
train he might attach himself. He allowed his desire to become known
as widely as possible, thinking that it might come to the ears of some
leader willing to engage his services.
The port was full of soldiers, real and pretended, waiting to take
ship in various directions. There were veterans seeking their homes
for a spell of rest after hard fighting or returning to recover from
severe wounds. There were others to whom the sole attraction presented
by the scene of war was the prospect of loot. There were traders and
camp followers innumerable, desperadoes and outlaws, gamblers who used
loaded dice and sharpers of all sorts. John was fated to fall into
the hands of some of those smooth but dishonest characters who, like
vultures, hung in the rear of every army and preyed on the soldiers
returning from a campaign rich with pay and plunder. Our hero was an
easy victim, for, whilst his common sense rendered him sufficiently
cautious where an open enemy was concerned, his frank and generous
disposition prevented his suspecting the good faith of a pretended
friend.
John had his heavy iron-bound chest taken to one of the best inns
in the town and there he settled himself comfortably to interested
contemplation of the bustle and movement about him. Although he makes
no mention of being conscious of the trait, John Smith evidently had
the habit of awaiting events when circumstances failed to supply him
with a basis for a reasonable plan of action. When we can not see
our way clearly ahead, generally the wisest thing we can do is to do
nothing, as Handy Andy might have said. We seldom force a situation
without making a mess of it. It did not often happen to John, in the
course of his eventful life, that he had long to wait for something to
turn up, and the present occasion was no exception to the rule.
He was seated in the common room of the inn one day when he was forced
to overhear a conversation in French, with which language he had become
tolerably familiar. The speakers were four men who had the appearance
of being soldiers in good circumstances. One of them, in particular,
was richly dressed and seemed to be of superior station to the others,
who were receiving his directions for the voyage to France, which was
to be the first stage in a journey to Hungary, where they proposed
taking part in the campaign against the Turks. John heard this with
delight, for it seemed to afford the very opportunity for which he had
been longing.
Presently the three subordinates went out, and no sooner were they
alone than John eagerly approached the remaining Frenchman. After
apologizing for overhearing the conversation, which, in truth, was
intended for his ears, the young soldier stated his circumstances and
ventured to express a hope that the gentleman, whom he surmised to be a
nobleman, might find a place for him in his train. The Frenchman, who
stated his name and style to be Lord de Preau, at first affected to be
annoyed at the discussion of his private affairs, but as John proceeded
with his story the supposed nobleman relaxed, and at its conclusion
with amiable condescension invited our hero to be seated and join him
in a bottle of wine.
“I may be able to further your design,” said “Lord de Preau” with
thoughtful deliberation, whilst John hung eagerly upon his every
word. “It is in my mind to help you, for a more likely young gallant
I have never met. But I have not the means, as you seem to think, of
supporting a large train.”
Here his “lordship” broke off to raise his goblet to his lips, and
John’s heart sank as he imagined that he saw an objection in prospect.
The “nobleman” noted the look of disappointment on the young man’s
mobile countenance and smiled encouragingly as he continued:
“It may be contrived I ween and thus. The Duc de Mercœur--as is
doubtless beknown to you--is now at the seat of war with a company
raised in France. I have letters to the Duc’s good lady who will, I
doubt not, furnish me with the means to continue my journey and also
commend me to the favor of her lord.”
“And the Duchesse? Where may she be?” asked John.
“The Duchesse de Mercœur sojourns with her father, Monsieur Bellecourt,
whose lands adjoin my own poor estate in Picardy,” replied the
pretended nobleman, “so that first we repair to my _chateau_ and there
lay our plans for the future. It is agreed?”