RAVENSHAW'S SLEEP IS INTERRUPTED.
"Captain, rally up your rotten regiment, and begone."--_A King and No
King._
Master Jerningham, having communicated his good hopes to Sir Clement
Ermsby on the deck of his ship, considered that, as the maid was not
to leave London till nightfall, and, as he was now between London and
the Grange, he had ample time to reach his country-house and send away
the captain ere she could be brought there by her escort. He therefore
resolved to proceed with leisure and order. And first, as he had long
fasted, and as he had a night's business before him, he went ashore to
his accustomed tavern at Deptford, and had supper with Sir Clement in a
room where they were alone.
"We shall take one of our own boats and four of our men," said
Jerningham, "and row down to the old landing at the Grange. 'Tis but a
short walk thence to the house. You and two of the men would best wait
without the house, whilst I go in and send away Ravenshaw. If he saw
you and so many men he might smell some extraordinary business, and
have the curiosity to set himself against my orders."
"If he should do so, nevertheless," said Ermsby, "then, as you said
awhile ago--You may want our help in that."
"Then I must e'en call you. But I shall try to have him without his
weapons."
"What would Mistress Meg say to another ghost in the house?"
"Hang her, mad wench! Ay, she would be howling of murder and blood. I
know not--she might fly to my lord bishop with the news. Well, I can
tie her up and lock her in a chamber, at the worst. Yet she is a very
devil. I think I'd best breed no more trouble at the last. I'll not
have the knave killed unless he cannot be got away otherwise."
"An you send him away, will you leave some one in his place?"
"Ay, to keep Meg quiet till we are safe at sea. I'll leave Meadows, and
charge him not to tell her of our sailing. He is a trusty fool."
"But what will she say to this goldsmith's wench being housed overnight
in the Grange?"
"Why, I'll have a tale ready when we arrive: that I am saving the maid
from a runaway marriage, to take back to her father; or that the maid
is for you; or some such story."
"Best say the maid is for me. Women who have gone that road are ever
ready to push others into it."
"Not always. But I shall contrive to make Meg tolerate the other's
presence for a few hours, e'en if I must do it with promises. I can
offer to find her a husband,--this Ravenshaw, an she like his looks,
or another that may be bought. I think she has grown out of her sulks,
and into the hope of rehabilitation, by this time. As for the Cheapside
maid, first I will try wooing; she may be compliant of her own accord.
But if she hold out, there's nothing for it but the sleeping potion.
Gregory will fetch that with him; I bade him get it in Bucklersbury on
his way to Friday Street."
"May it give her pleasant dreams!"
"When she is fast asleep," continued Jerningham, "I'll leave Gregory
to watch her, and we'll come back to welcome my lord bishop in the
morning. And to-morrow, when my lord has seen the last of us, and the
tide is bearing us down the river, we need only put the ship to at the
old landing, walk to the house, and carry her aboard. There will be
none to see but Meg and old Jeremy, and they shall not know the ship is
ours, or that we are farther bound than Tilbury."
Sir Clement's appetite, which had been less neglected of late, was
satisfied before Jerningham's, and the knight proposed that he should
go and get the boat in readiness while the other finished eating.
Jerningham consented, naming the men who were to be taken from the
ship's crew upon the night's business.
"I will join you very soon," said he, as Sir Clement left the room.
Jerningham brought his supper to an end, and bade a drawer fetch the
reckoning. Waiting for the boy's return, he flung himself on his back
on a bench that stood against the wall. The knowledge that all was
provided for, that his course was fully thought out, and that only
action lay before him, brought to his mind a restfulness it had not
lately known. The effect of his heavy meal acted with this to snare
his senses; so long it was since sleep had overtaken him, he was not
on guard against it. When the tavern lad came back with the score, the
gentleman's eyes were closed, his breathing was slow and deep. Knowing
by experience that sleeping gentlemen sometimes resented disturbance,
the drawer went away more quietly than he had entered; Master
Jerningham was a good customer, and might as well pay last as first.
Sir Clement saw the boat ready, and then busied himself in the study
of maps and charts by candle-light in the cabin, pending Jerningham's
appearance. In his preoccupation, he lost thought of the night's
affair, in which Jerningham bore all the responsibility. He took no
observance of the increasing darkness outside, until at last he became
wonderingly sensible of Jerningham's delay. Hastening ashore, he found
the sleeper in the tavern.
"Good God!" cried Jerningham, springing up at his friend's call;
"what's the hour? How long have I slept? Death! is all lost?"
"Nay, there is time, if we bestir ourselves."
"Then we must fly. My plans are all undone if she be there before I
send away that captain."
Learning what o'clock it was, Jerningham found he had yet time to write
a short pretended letter, to serve as pretext for Ravenshaw's journey.
This done, he hastened to the boat.
Not until he was being rowed past Blackwall, did it occur to him that,
in the haste of departure, he had not looked to the thorough arming of
the party, and that there was not a firearm with the whole company.
"Oh, pish! there is steel enough among us to cut eight captains'
throats with a clean blade apiece, an it comes to throat-cutting," said
Ermsby.
"'Twould come to that soon enough, but for the storm Meg would raise.
Plague take her! would I had the heart to quiet her the sure way! But
I cannot steel myself to that. I must be led by circumstance; 'tis for
this captain's doings to say whether his throat need be cut. He had no
pistol when he left me. As for his sword and dagger"--here Jerningham
raised his voice and called to one of the men rowing: "Goodcole, thou
hast some skill in sleights, and cutting purses, and the like, I have
heard."
"Ay, sir," was the confident reply. "In my time I have been called the
knave with the invisible fingers. My friends used to say I could filch
a man's shirt off his back while he stood talking to me in the street."
"Poh!" growled another of the men; "I much doubt whether you can pick a
pocket."
"Here's a handful of testers I picked from yours," said Goodcole,
resting his oar for a moment that he might return his comrade the coins.
There was a brief stoppage from rowing while the other men hastily
investigated the condition of their own pockets.
"Excellent Goodcole!" quoth Sir Clement Ermsby. "Thou art a proficient
in a most delicate craft."
"Thou couldst take away a man's sword and dagger ere he knew it,
belike," said Jerningham.
"I could take away his teeth, or the thoughts in the centre of his
head," promptly answered Goodcole.
"Perchance I shall put thee to the test by and by," said Jerningham.
In good time they found the landing with their lights, made the boat
fast, and hastened through the darkness to the country-house. The gate
of the courtyard was not fastened. Jerningham first led the way to a
small penthouse in one corner of the yard, where he desired that Sir
Clement and two of the men should remain until he saw how the captain
took the new commands.
"And e'en when the maid is brought," he added, with a sudden
afterthought, "best you be not seen at the first; wait till I try
whether she is to be won softly. If she saw you she might remember that
night, and be thrown into greater fear and opposition. I'll call when I
have need of you."
He then went with Meadows and Goodcole to the door within the porch;
finding it made fast inside, he gave two rapid double knocks, then two
single ones. Soon a tiny wicket opened behind a little grating in the
door. Jerningham held a lantern close to his face so that he might be
quickly recognised. The door opened, and Jerningham found Mistress Meg
alone in the hall, where the light of a single candle struggled with
the darkness. The lantern and torch brought in by the newcomers were a
welcome reinforcement. Jerningham set the lantern on the chimney shelf,
and had the torch thrust into a sconce on the wall.
"Did the new steward come?" he asked.
"The new steward?" quoth Meg, with faint derision at the title. "Yes;
am I not still here?"
"Where is he?" asked the master, ignoring the allusion to her threat.
"In his chamber. He arrived, ate, drank, went thither; and I have not
seen him since."
A sudden light came into Jerningham's eyes. "Ten to one he sleeps. He
had a laborious day of it ere he came hither. What weapons had he when
he came?"
"Rapier and dagger," answered Meg, looking surprised at the question.
"'Twere a good jest now," said Jerningham, pretending amusement, "to
take them from him in his sleep, then come away and send Jeremy to wake
him."
"Is he the kind of man to see the mirth of that jest?" inquired Meg,
with little interest.
"We shall see if he be. Goodcole, a chance to prove your mettle.
Where's Jeremy? Pray send him to me, mistress, and I'll thank you."
While Meg was at the kitchen door calling the old man-servant,
Jerningham spoke quietly to Goodcole. Jeremy appeared, blinking and
bowing; as he passed Meg, he chuckled, and said, in undertone, "A
husband mends all, sooth!" Master Jerningham, ascertaining from Meg
what chamber the captain lay in, bade the old man show Goodcole the
way. The pair took a lantern, of which Goodcole concealed all but a
small part in his jerkin.
During the absence of the two, Jerningham directed Meg's attention to
Meadows: "This is the man shall abide here for a time; I must send
t'other on business that bears no delay,--him that lies up-stairs, I
mean. 'Tis partly for that reason I have come here. And partly 'tis
that I may, for an hour or so, play the host to a visitor that must
perforce lodge here to-night,--a young woman."
He paused; but Meg merely paid attention to him with eyes and ears, and
displayed no emotion.
"She is daughter to a merchant I much esteem in London; she has been in
some manner bewitched, or constrained, or seduced, to fly from her home
to this neighbourhood with an unthrift knave. By chance the plot came
to my ears, and for her father's sake, and her honour's, I have caused
her to be stayed in her flight and fetched hither. To-morrow I will
come and put her aboard a vessel that shall carry her to Tilbury, where
her father hath gone upon his affairs. If it fall to you to comfort or
serve her while she is here, take heed you talk nothing of the matter,
for all she may say to you. And not a word of this before Captain
Ravenshaw when he comes down."
Whatever were Meg's thoughts, she kept them to herself. Though she
might fear ghosts and witches, she was not to be thrown out of
composure by surprises and visits, even if they came thick in a few
hours, after months of the still and solitary life that was the rule at
the Grange.
Goodcole and Jeremy returned, the former carrying the rapier and dagger
with a nonchalant, even contemptuous, air, as if his task had been
too easy. Jerningham smiled approval; he took the weapons, thrust the
dagger in his girdle, and laid the rapier behind him on the table, as
his own scabbard was, of course, occupied. He then sent Jeremy back
with a candle to summon the captain down to the hall.
When the captain came, it was he that held the candle; while with one
hand he dragged Jeremy by the collar.
"Hell and furies!" he roared; "what nest of rogues, what den of
thieves, what--what--" He paused, and stared open-mouthed at
Jerningham, who was standing with folded arms and a look of amusement.
"How now, captain? What is ill with you?"
"My weapons, sir--my rapier, my dagger--angled, filched, stolen in my
sleep! God's death, is this the kind of a house you keep here?--Ah, you
have them, I see."
But Jerningham pleasantly raised his hand, so that the captain in mere
courtesy stopped in the midst of a stride forward, and waited for the
other's words.
"A slight piece of mirth, captain, and a lesson for you, too. Coming
hither upon a sudden business, and learning you were so sound a
sleeper, I saw my chance of disarming you, and showing you what danger
a man may be in asleep."
"Why, sooth, I am not wont to sleep so sound," said Ravenshaw, a little
shamefacedly; "but, being come to this quiet and lone place, I allowed
myself to slide, as one might say, and--so 'twas. But to take my
weapons from me awake, that were a different business, sir, I think I
may say."
"All the world knows that, captain."
"By your leave, sir, I'll have them back again, I feel awkward without
'em."
"A mere moment, I pray you, captain," said Jerningham, with a smile of
harmless raillery. "I would have you hear first the business I have
come hither so late to send you upon. As it is so sudden a matter,
and hath some discomfort in it, you might take it in choler; and then
'twere best you had no steel to your hand."
Ravenshaw thought that his master's wit was of a very childish quality;
but said, merely, as he summoned patience:
"What is the business?"
"Oh, a slight, simple matter in itself, but needing absolute sureness
in the doing, and instant speed in the starting. This letter is to be
carried to Dover, to him that is named upon it, and an answer brought
to me at Winchester House. That is all."
"Oh, pish! a slight, paltry journey; nothing to make me choleric. With
the horse I rode to-day, I'll go and come in four days."
Which was very good time upon the horses and roads of that period.
"But there's the pinch," quoth Jerningham, "I must have the answer
Monday morning ere the Exchange opens. You must know I take a
gentleman's part in a merchant's venture or so, and if certain cargoes
now due at Dover--In short, you must ride forth immediately, as soon as
horse can be saddled."
Ravenshaw, remembering his promise to pay Cutting Tom at the parson's
on the morrow noon, slowly shook his head.
"How now, captain? Would you shirk at the outset? Will you be
continually failing me? This is no such matter as the other, man."
"I do not shirk; but I will not start to-night. I will set forth
to-morrow, and make what speed man and beast can."
"Look you, captain; my commands are that you set forth now. If you
choose to throw yourself out upon the world again--"
Jerningham paused. Now, in truth, Ravenshaw had felt he could be very
comfortable for a time on this quiet estate; his body and his wits,
both somewhat overtaxed in the struggle for existence he had so long
maintained, plead for repose. He sighed, and fell back upon obvious
objections, not aware that Jerningham already knew of his engagement
for the morrow with Cutting Tom.
"Why, bethink you, the darkness--" he blundered.
"A man may go a steady pace by lantern-light. I've ridden many a mile
so," said Jerningham.
"But how is a man to keep the right road, with none awake to tell him?"
"You must know the way to the highroad, for you came over it to-day;
and you must know the highroad as far as to Canterbury, for you told me
so when I directed you to this place. It will be daylight long before
you come to Canterbury."
The captain shook his head again.
Jerningham felt that time was passing rapidly. "If you are for
disobedience, you are no longer for my service," he said. "Take
yourself from my house and my land forthwith."
Ravenshaw laughed; and stood motionless, which was what Jerningham
wished, in case the captain was determined against an immediate start
for Dover, for it would not do to have him free in the neighbourhood,
perchance to learn of the treachery concerning the maid in time to
give trouble. It had occurred to Jerningham that a threatening step
on the captain's part, by affording excuse for a deed of blood, would
lessen its horror and create in Meg, with less fear of retribution upon
the house, less mood for turning accuser. So he resumed, with studied
offensiveness of tone:
"Begone from my house, I bid you!" With which, he drew the captain's
dagger as if he forgot it was not his own.
Jerningham's back was to the table; Ravenshaw faced him, three or four
paces away; by the front door stood Meadows, with a long knife in his
girdle; Goodcole, before the fireplace, was similarly armed. Meg and
Jeremy, wondering spectators, were near the kitchen door. Ravenshaw
noted all this in a single glance right and left; noted in the looks of
the two men the habit of instant readiness to support their master.
"Pray, consider the hour," said Ravenshaw, feeling it was a time for
temporising.
"'Tis for you to consider; I command," said Jerningham, taking the
captain's sword from the table behind him.
"You should give me my weapons before you bid me depart," said the
captain, in as light a tone as he could assume.
"When you are gone, I will throw them after you."
Ravenshaw dashed forward with a growl; but stopped short in time, with
the point of his own sword at his breast. He had an impulse to grasp
the blade; but he knew, if he were quick enough for that, there was yet
the dagger to be reckoned with, besides the two men, who drew their
knives at that moment. Jerningham seemed to brace himself for a spring;
he held the captain's sword and dagger as in sockets of iron; a dark
gleam shone in his eyes. Ravenshaw knew the look; time and again he had
worn it himself; he knew also when, as player in a game, he was within
a move of being checkmated.
"Well," quoth he, with a grin of resignation, "you hold all the good
cards. I will carry your letter." He suddenly bethought him of a friend
or two in Rochester, which he would pass through early in the morning
if he made the journey, by whom he might send Cutting Tom's money to
the parson. Contemplating the life of ease he had promised himself
in his new service, he was not sorry a good pretext had occurred for
withdrawing his refusal.
"You will set out immediately?" asked Jerningham.
"The sooner the better, now."
Jerningham sent the old man out with a lantern to saddle the
captain's horse and bring it to the door. He then handed the letter
to the captain, and gave particular instructions, such as would be
necessary in a genuine errand. Jeremy reappeared, at the front door,
and announced that the horse was ready. Jerningham surrendered the
captain's rapier and dagger with grace, and gave him money for the
journey. Ravenshaw then examined the lantern which Jeremy brought him,
waved a farewell to Jerningham and Meg, and strode to the door.
Jerningham breathed softly, lest even a sigh of satisfaction might
betray his sense of triumph. "She is mine!" sang his heart.
The door, left slightly ajar by the old man, opened wide as if by
a will of its own, just as the captain was about to grasp it. A
white-bearded, ruddy-faced man, dressed in rags and upheld by one leg
and a crutch, stood grinning at the threshold.
"God save your worship!" said he to the captain. "We come late; but
first our affairs hindered us, and then we mistook the way. By good
chance, we find you awake; else had we passed the night under some
penthouse or such, hereabouts, and come to drink your health in the
morning."
Ravenshaw having mechanically stepped back, the old beggar hobbled
in, followed by several other maimed ragamuffins, with whom came the
two women Ravenshaw had seen in the afternoon, and a pair of handsome
frowsy young hussies who had not appeared in the road. The legless
dwarf still rode upon a comrade's shoulders. As the motley gang
trooped in, there was a great clatter and thud of crutches, wooden
legs, and staves.
"God's death! who are these?" cried Jerningham, in petulant
astonishment.
"Some poor friends of mine I met on the way hither," said Ravenshaw,
apologetically. "I asked them to sup with me here. I had well-nigh
forgot."
"Sup with you! By what right--well, no matter for that. Where did you
think to find provender for all those mouths?"
"I was to find drink only; they were to find meat."
"Ay," said the chief beggar, "chickens; and here they be, young and
plump." He thrust his hand into a sack another fellow carried, and
drew out a cold roast pullet. The captain gazed at this specimen with
admiring eyes, and unconsciously licked his lips.
"By your leave," said he to Jerningham, "I'll tarry but a half-hour to
play the host to my invited guests; and then away. I can make up the
time; a half-hour, more or less--"
"'Tis not to be thought of!" cried Jerningham. "There has been too much
time lost already."
"Nay, I'll make it up, I tell you. I am bound to these people by my
invitation; they have come far out of their way."
"Oh, as for that, they need not go away thirsty. Jeremy, take
these--good people--to the kitchen, and broach a cask." Master
Jerningham, in his desire for Ravenshaw's departure, could force
himself to any concession; he considered that, left to themselves,
these beggars would be no obstacle to his design; they could be kept at
their ale in the kitchen.
"Why, to tell the truth," interposed the captain, "'tis not so much
their thirst troubles me; 'tis my hunger." And he leaned a little
toward the fowl, sniffing, and feasting on it with his eyes.
"Take it with you, man, and eat as you ride," said Jerningham, still
restraining his impatience.
"Why, that's fair enough," replied Ravenshaw. "I'll just drink one cup
with these my guests, and then leave 'em to your hospitality." Without
more ado, he walked to the kitchen door, where Jeremy was standing,
and motioned the beggars to follow. They filed into the kitchen, seven
men and four women, not a whole body in the gang save the two robust
wenches.
"A bare minute or so, sir," said Ravenshaw to Jerningham, and went
after them, taking the lantern with him. Soon there came from the
kitchen the noise of loosened tongues chattering in the gibberish of
the mendicant profession.
Master Jerningham, knowing that opposition would only cause further
delay, controlled himself as best he could, and waited in silence,
pacing the hall, while the captain had his humour. Meg, with
housewifely instinct, betook herself to the kitchen to keep an eye on
matters there. Presently the captain reappeared, with a pullet in one
hand, his lantern in the other, Meg having meanwhile lighted candles in
the kitchen.
[Illustration: "THERE ... WAS THE MAID OF CHEAPSIDE, PALE AND
BEWILDERED."]
"And now to horse!" cried he, closing the kitchen door after him.
"And God save us from any more delays!" said Jerningham, with a
pretence of jocularity.
"So say I," quoth Ravenshaw, stalking forward.
In the centre of the hall he stopped, with a cry of astonishment, which
made Jerningham turn swiftly toward the open front door.
There in the porch, which was suddenly lighted up with rays of torch
and lantern, was the maid of Cheapside, pale and bewildered, held on
either side by Cutting Tom and one of his comrades.