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THE STORY OF MARGARET TUDOR
[Illustration: MARGARET TUDOR.]
MARGARET TUDOR
_A Romance of Old St. Augustine_
By ANNIE T. COLCOCK
_Illustrated by_
W. B. GILBERT
[Illustration]
NEW YORK · FREDERICK A.
STOKES COMPANY · PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1901,
BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
Transcriber's Note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. The oe
ligature is shown as [oe].
"That thee is sent receive in buxomnesse,
The wrastling of this world asketh a fall,
Here is no home, here is but wildernesse,
. . . . .
Looke up on high, and thanké God of all!"
CHAUCER.
NOTE.
The names of Mr. John Rivers,--kinsman and agent of Lord Ashley,--Dr.
Wm. Scrivener and Margaret Tudor appear in the passenger list of the
_Carolina_, as given in the Shaftesbury Papers (Collections of the South
Carolina Historical Society, Vol. V, page 135). In the same (page 169)
may be found a brief account of the capture, at Santa Catalina, of Mr.
Rivers, Capt. Baulk, some seamen, _a woman, and a girl_; also (page 175)
mention of the unsuccessful embassy of Mr. Collins; and (page 204) the
Memorial to the Spanish Ambassador touching the delivery of the
prisoners, one of whom is alluded to as _Margaret_, presumably Margaret
Tudor.
The names of the two Spaniards, Señor de Colis and Don Pedro Melinza,
each appear once in the Shaftesbury Papers (pages 25 and 443): the
latter individual was evidently a person of some consequence in San
Augustin; the former, in the year 1663, was "Governour and
Captain-General, Cavallier, and Knight of the Order of St. James."
ANNIE T. COLCOCK.
THE STORY OF MARGARET TUDOR
CHAPTER I.
San Augustin, this 29th of June, Anno Domini 1670.
It is now more than a month since our captivity began, and there seems
scant likelihood that it will come to a speedy close,--altho', being in
good health myself, and of an age when hope dies slowly, I despair not
of recovering both liberty and friends. Yet, in the event of our further
detention, of sickness or any other evil that may befall me--and there
is one threatening--I write these pages of true history, praying that
they may some time reach the hand of my guardian and uncle, Dr. William
Scrivener, if he be still alive and dwelling in these parts. Should they
chance, instead, to meet the eyes of some friendly-disposed person of
English blood and Protestant faith, to whom the name of William
Scrivener is unknown, I beseech him to deliver them to any person
sailing with the sloop _Three Brothers_, which did set out from the
Island of Barbadoes on the 2nd of November last,--being in the hire of
Sir Thomas Colleton, and bearing freight and passengers for these
shores.
If the sloop has suffered some misadventure (as I fear is not
unlikely,--either at the hands of the Spaniards, or else of the Indians
of these parts, who do show themselves most unfriendly to all
Englishmen, being set on to mischief by the Spanish friars), then I pray
that word may be forwarded to his Lordship, the Duke of Albemarle, and
others of the Lords Proprietors who did commission and furnish a fleet
of three vessels, to wit: the _Carolina_, the _Port Royal_, and the
_Albemarle_, which did weigh anchor at the Downs in August of last year,
and set forth to plant an English colony at Port Royal.
In particular would I implore that word might reach Lord Ashley, seeing
that his kinsman, Mr. John Rivers, is here detained a prisoner in sorry
state, laden with chains in the dungeon of the Castle--for which may God
forgive me, I being in some degree to blame; and yet, since it hath
pleased Heaven to grant me the fair face that wrought the mischief, I
hold myself the less guilty and grieve the more bitterly, inasmuch as I
love him with a maid's true love and would willingly give my life to
spare him hurt.
If it were so that I might give the true narrative of our present
plight, and how it fell about, without cumbering the tale with mention
of my own name, it would please me best; but as those who read it may be
strangers, I would better tell my story from the start.
Of myself it is enough to say that my name is Margaret Tudor, and saving
my uncle, Dr. Scrivener, I am alone in the world and well-nigh
portionless--my father having spent his all, and life and liberty to
boot, in the service of King Charles, being one of those unfortunate
royalists who plotted for His Majesty's return in the year '55. For, as
Cromwell did discover their designs ere they were fully ripe, many were
taken prisoners, of whom some suffered death and others banishment. Of
these last was my father, who was torn from the arms of his young wife
and babe and sent in slavery to Barbadoes. We could learn nothing of his
after fate, though many inquiries were made in his behalf.
And so it fell about that,--my mother having gone to her rest,--I did
take passage with my uncle, Dr. William Scrivener, on board the
_Carolina_, with intent to stop at Barbadoes and make some search for my
poor father in the hope that he yet lived.
Among the passengers of the _Carolina_ was Lord Ashley's kinsman and
agent, Mr. John Rivers, of whom I can find naught to say that seems
fitting; for although it may hap that in this great world there are
other men of a countenance as fine, a mien as noble, and a heart as
brave and tender, it has not been my lot as yet to encounter them.
Together we did sail for three months on the great deep, in danger of
pirates, in peril of tempests, and in long hours of golden calm when the
waters burned blue around us and the wide heaven shone pale and clear
over our heads. And in all that time we came to know one another passing
well; and Mr. Rivers heard my father's story and promised to aid us in
our search.
It was October when we reached Barbadoes and landed. Of the news that we
obtained, and the strange chance that brought it to our ears, it is
needless here to speak. Let it suffice that my dear father did not
suffer long, as death soon freed him from his bondage.
We had no further cause to detain us in Barbadoes, so we yielded to the
persuasions of Mr. Rivers that we should continue with the expedition to
Port Royal; and, in November, we set sail once more in the _Three
Brothers_, a sloop hired to replace the _Albemarle_, which, in
consequence of a broken cable, had been driven ashore in a gale and lost
upon the rocks.
From now on, for the truth's sake, I must needs tell somewhat of my
intercourse with Mr. Rivers. It may seem I am lacking in a proper
modesty if I declare that, even then, there was more than friendship
betwixt us. But surely there were reasons enough and to spare. That I
should love him was no mystery--he being the gallant gentleman he is;
and, since there chanced to be no other maid upon the vessel of proper
age and gentle condition, I suppose it was in nature that he should make
the best of the little society he had. But nay, I would be false to my
own faith if I doubted that it was foreordained of Heaven that we should
come together and love one another.
It is true that I did not make confession of this belief until I had
tormented my would-be lord with every teasing device that entered into
my brain. But though he was often cast down for hours together, he gave
me to understand that he could read my heart in my blue eyes.
"An you were to swear upon your soul you hated me, dear lady, I'd not
believe it," he once said. "Mistress Margaret is too unversed in city
ways and shallow coquetries to play a part--and 'tis for that I love her
so." And though it angered me to have him praise my innocence and
country airs, I knew he spoke the truth, and that a time would come when
I would own my love for him. And so it did.
A terrible storm had raged for eight-and-forty hours. There had been
wild, black, awful nights, and sullen days when the gray curtains of the
sky were torn asunder and whirled over us in inky folds, their tattered
fringes lashing up the seas, and whipping our frail bark till it skulked
and cowered, like a beaten cur that looks in vain for mercy. We had
drifted northward far from our course, our two consorts had disappeared,
and we had well-nigh given up hope, when with the dawning of the third
day the wind lulled, and through the ragged clouds we saw the blue arch
of heaven high above us.
I had climbed out upon the deck alone; and from a sheltered corner I saw
the sun rise and gild a far-off strip of shore that lay to west of us.
It seemed a vision of a new heaven and a new earth, and I gave God
thanks. Then a hand touched mine, and a voice whispered my name--and
other words that need not be recorded here; and I could answer nothing
in denial, for the reason that my heart was too full.