of these terrible doings, and without other delay than that caused by
procuring fresh water from a certain gifted well among those dreary
hills that overlooked the sound of Balta, he bore away for the Skager
Rack; but, notwithstanding every exertion of seamanship, whistling most
perseveringly for fair winds, and sprinkling salt on the sea to lay the
foul, the middle of June arrived before he prepared to enter the fiord
of Christiana, and ere Konrad saw the shore of his native province
rising from the dark blue water, and hailed those peaks, known as the
hills of Paradise, that encircle the sea, arise before him with all
their echoing woods and snow-white cataracts.
But there even, in their native seas, the fame and terror of the
outlawed Earl had gone before them; and many a dismasted and many a
shattered hull, with bloodstained decks and broken hatches, rolling on
the Skager Back or stranded on the rocks of the fiord, attested the
recklessness of that desperate noble and his followers, who were now at
war with all mankind.
"I pray to Heaven we may meet this bold marauder, now that our keel is
ploughing our own waters," said Konrad, whose old Norwegian spirit
flashed up in his bosom at the sight of his native hills. "Would I had
a score of my old crossbowmen that I left behind me at Bergen, and thou
with thy two culverins"----
"St. Olaf forefend!" rejoined Hans, hastily hitching up his wide
chocolate-coloured inexpressibles, as he thought of his investment in
wheat and malt and tanned leather, and the risk they would run. "I
would I were safe under the batteries of our old castle of Bergen,
where, please Heaven and honest Nippen, I will drop my anchor to-night.
And now, Master Konrad, that once again we are in sight of _Gamle
Norge_, how meanest thou to shape thy course, and keep to the windward
of misfortune? Dost thou steer for the Elbe or the Weser? There the
Lubeckers and Holsteiners are every day playing at ding-dong with
arquebuse and caliver."
"Thou askest, Hans, what I scarcely know how to answer. My band of
crossbowmen will, of course, be still at Bergen, but the king,
doubtless, will have given them another captain. Sir Erick is in his
grave; and Anna, Heaven only knows where. I have nothing now to tie me
to the spot I love so well," he continued, sighing, "but many sad and
bitter memories, which are better committed to oblivion; so, as thou
sayest, I will even wend me to the Elbe, and there follow the fortunes
of the war."
"Then be it so: I can give thee a letter to Arnold Heidhammer, a certain
burgomaster, which may avail thee much; and if a hundred rose nobles
will be of service, thou mayest have them. For this cargo, above which
we are now treading--But, ho! yonder is a sail that beareth towards us
somewhat suspiciously. St. Olaf! but she shot round that promontory
like a sea-gull!"
Hans sprang upon one of the culverins Konrad had referred to, and,
shading his eyes with his hand (for his fur cap was minus a peak, and
there were then no telescopes), he peered intently at the stranger.
"Friend Hans, what dost thou make her out to be?" asked Konrad, whose
heart beat strangely.
"A great frigate, galley rigged--with ten culverins a-side--crossbows on
her forecastle--and hackbuts on her poop; full of men, too--see how many
helmets are glinting in the sunshine!"
The shore was five or six miles distant. The noonday sun shone joyously
on the bright blue sea, and full upon the snow-white canvass of the
approaching vessel, which was bellying in the land breeze, above the
tier of brass-mouthed culverins that peered from the red port-holes of
the bow, waist, and her towering poop and forecastle, which were covered
with a profusion of heraldic and symbolical carving and gilding. Her
masts were each composed of two tall spars, having four large square
sails; she had ponderous basketed tops and poop-lanterns--a great square
sprit-sail, under which the water that boiled against her bow was
flashing, as it wreathed and foamed in the light of the meridian sun,
and bubbled under the counters of her towering stern.
Several men in armour were visible above the gunnel, and their pikes
glinted as she approached, rolling over the long waves; and there was
one whose suit of polished steel shone like silver, as he stood on the
lofty poop.
She was still above half a mile distant, and Hans, who liked not her
appearance (for he had a mortal aversion to every thing like cannon, or
coats-of-mail, on board ship) crowded all sail, and stood away, right up
the Fiord. Upon this a red flash broke from the tall forecastle of the
stranger--a wreath of white smoke curled aloft through her thick
rattlins and white canvass, and a stone bullet, that whistled over the
water, cut Hans' foreyard in the slings, and brought a ruin of
splintered wood, and rope, and fluttering canvass, down upon his deck.
Deprived of her head-sails, the crayer immediately proved unmanageable;
and the stranger, spreading his broad canvass more fully to the breeze,
soon sheered ahead, and backing his fore-yard with an air of
considerable seamanship, lay too across the bows of the _Skottefruin_.
Poor Hans now with dismay beheld a great foreign banner displayed; but
though he knew it not, Konrad immediately recognised the cheverons and
lions of Bothwell, and he perceived that the figure on the bow was the
Earl's coroneted crest, a white horse's-head, with a gilded bridle; and
one glance at the lofty sides, the grim cannon tier, and gigantic poop
of the Scottish frigate, and her gunnels lined by pikemen and
arquebusiers in their steel caps and coats-of-mail, sufficed to shew him
that he was again completely in the power of his ancient enemy; though
by what miracle he, who, when they left the Forth, seemed to have all
Scotland prostrate under his hand, should thus again be a cruiser in the
Scandinavian seas, he could not comprehend.
A small boat was lowered with a plash into the water; a tall man in dark
armour, whose weight nearly overset it, dropped into it, and six seamen,
armed with whingers and jedwood axes, followed, and immediately pushed
off towards the vessel of the terrified Norwegian skipper, who stood as
usual with his hands stuffed into his chocolate-coloured breeches, his
Elsinore cap pulled over his bushy brows, his teeth set hard, and
desperation in his eyes, viewing the approach of this armed and unknown
enemy.
The dark knight put a foot on one of the forechain-plates, grasped the
rattlins, and vaulted on board with singular agility, considering the
bulk of his frame and the weight of his armour.
"Cock and pie!" he exclaimed, as he threw up his visor, and recognised
both Konrad and Hans. "I find myself among acquaintances here."
"And what want ye now, Sir Knight?" said Konrad, as he threateningly
grasped a handspike, the first and only weapon that lay at hand; "and
how dare ye to bend cannon on a ship of the Danish king, within the
Norwegian seas?"
"To the first question, Master Konrad," replied Ormiston, with mock
deliberation, "as to what we want, I reply, a sight of this good
skipper's invoice, for we mightily lack various things since our repulse
before the harbour of Kirkwall, and an examination thereof will save us
much trouble in overhauling a cargo which may consist of nought else
than hazel-wands and wheel-barrows. To the second--as to why we dared
to bend our cannon against thee, thou hadst better ask my Lord the Earl
of Bothwell--nay, I mean James, Duke of Orkney, who dare do just
whatever pleaseth himself on the land, and I see no reason why he should
curb his frolicsome fancies on the open sea. By St. Paul! skipper, thou
hast the very gloom of a Nordland bear; but bring up thy jar of
hollands--let us drink and be friends, and then I will examine thine
invoice, for I love not trifling, and lack time."
This formidable knight had all the air of a man who was to be obeyed;
the unhappy Hans produced his round and capacious leathern bottle of
Dutch gin, of which Ormiston, who had seated himself upon a culverin,
drank a deep draught, and then handed the remainder to his boat's crew.
"Now, sirrah, for thine invoice of the victual under these hatches; for
we lack nought else."
From a tin case, concealed in the breast of his rough doublet, Hans,
with trembling fingers, produced from among several others a small piece
of parchment. Ormiston adjusted his steel glove, unfolded the invoice,
and, after viewing it in various ways, handed it to Konrad, saying--
"I request of thee to read me this, and read it truly for thine own
sake. By the mass! I never could read much at any time, and such a
cramped scrawl baffles my skill in writing, which never went much beyond
making my mark on an Englishman's hide."
Aware of the futility of resistance, and feeling for the agony of poor
Hans, whose all was shipped on board his crayer, Konrad read the
following invoice, which we give verbatim from the papers of the
Magister Absalom:--
"Shippit by ye grace of God, in goode order and weel-conditioned, by
Ihone Middiltoune, at the Timber Holfe, in and upon ye goode shippe
_Skottefruin_ of Bergen, quherof Hans Knuber is maister, now lying in
the harberie of Leith, bound for Bergen--to saye, 113 baggs containing
aucht tons, four bollis, three lippies, and twa pecks of wheaten flour,
to be delivered at Bergen, in ye like gude order (the act of God, the
queen's enemies of England, fire, and all other dangeris of ye sea
excepted), as customarie; and so God send yis gude and noble shippe to
her destined port in safety.--Amen.
"At Leith, ye 23d April, in ye zeir of our Lord 1567."
"Now God be with thee, thou dour carle!" said Ormiston, leaping up;
"thou hast enough and to spare of the very provender we lack most. One
hundred and thirteen bags of wheaten flour! St. Mary--I have not broken
a flour bannock since we left Dunbar! Thou must hand me over, say fifty
bags of this ware, and I will make thee a free gift of the
three-and-sixty other bags, with the bolls, lippies, and pecks to
boot--so up with thy hatches, for our stomachs and tempers lack no
delay."
It was only on hearing this that Hans seemed to shake oft his lethargy,
and his rage burst suddenly forth. He seized a handspike, and, grasping
it with nervous hands, flourished it aloft, and planted his broad sturdy
feet, which were cased in rough leather shoes, upon the hatchway, vowing
to dash out the brains of the first man who approached it.
"Presumptuous fool!" said the gigantic knight, laying his hand on his
sword; "were it worth while to draw, I might by one sliver cut thee in
two. I have no wish to harm thee; but beware, for thou hast to deal
with ruined and outlawed men, whom toil by sea--a narrow escape from a
superior force, that hath pursued and driven us into these
waters--starvation, and Heaven knows what more--have rendered
desperate--so beware thee, Sir Skipper, or I will hang thee at thine own
mast-head!"
"And who art thou, robber and pirate! that I, a free trader, should
unclose my hatches at thy bidding on the open sea?" cried Hans in broken
Scottish, as he flourished his club within an inch of the speaker's
nose.
"Black Hob of Ormiston, a name that would find an echo in bonny
Teviotdale, Master Knuber, ha! ha!"
"And what wantest thou with my goods?"
"Nay, 'tis his grace the Duke of Orkney."
"And by whom shall I be paid?"
"The lords of the secret council at Edinburgh--ha! ha!--gif thou
bringest to them our heads, thou old sea-dog! Mass! Hans Knuber,
knowest thou not mine is well worth a hundred merks of silver, and that
of his grace of Orkney two thousand pounds of Scottish gold. But I
trifle. Back, fellow! and desire thy knaves to open the hatch and up
with these wheaten bags; for, by St. Mary! my mouth waters at the
thought of the bannocks."
Rendered furious by the prospect of being jocularly plundered by
marauders, for such adventures were far from uncommon on the ocean in
those days of ill-defined liberty and right, the long smothered passion
of Hans broke forth; and, swinging the handspike aloft, he dealt a
deadly blow at the head of Ormiston, who without much effort avoided it.
The stroke glanced harmlessly off his polished helmet; but, ere it could
be repeated, he grasped the portly assailant like a child, and with a
strength that astonished Konrad, and none more than Hans himself, lifted
him over the gunnel and dropped him into the boat alongside, saying,--
"Thank Heaven and thy patron, Sir Skipper, that I have not popped thee
into the sea, with a bunch of cannon-balls at thy neck; yet for that
rash blow I shall punish thee with a severity I meant not to practise."
Other boats now came off from the Earl's frigate; the hatches were
raised, and in a few minutes fifty bags of flour, that had grown on the
corn rigs of fertile Lothian, and been ground in the mills of Leith,
were transferred to the possession of Bothwell, whose outlawed crew,
hollow-eyed and wolfish with long travail, danger, and scanty fare,
received them with shouts of rapture--greeting each white dusty sack
with a round of applause as it was hoisted on board. Last of all,
Ormiston came off, bringing Hans Knuber and fourteen men who composed
the crayer's crew.
"Now, sirrah," said he sternly to Hans; "lift thy pumpkin head, and
behold how I will punish thee for that dirl on the sconce thou gavest
me!"
Hans, whom rage and the shock of falling into the boat, had reduced to a
state bordering on stupefaction, raised his heavy leaden-like grey eyes,
and gazed at his crayer. The sprit-sail and fore-topsail had been
hastily re-rigged and braced up--the helm lashed, to keep her head to
the wind; she was again under sail, and, without a soul on board, was
bearing full towards a dangerous eddy, that in those days boiled near
the shore of Bergen; and Hans, as the distance increased between him and
his vessel, gradually raised his hands to the ears of his fur cap, which
he grasped with a tenacity that tightened as she neared the vortex, or
little moskenstrom.
The rowers paused with their oars in the air, and looked back with
curiosity and interest; for there was something very absorbing in the
aspect of the abandoned ship, running full tilt on the career of
destruction with all her sails set. Onward she went, rolling over the
heavy swells caused by the waters of the fiord meeting those of the
Skager Rack; the sun shone full upon her stern windows from the western
hills--on her white canvass and the sparkling water that curled under
her counter--and nearer and nearer she drew to the boiling circle, that
with rapidity whirled white and frothy under the brow of an almost
perpendicular cliff, that was overhung by an ancient wood of drooping
pine.
Drawn within its influence, and dragged round by its irresistible
current, with sails torn, cordage snapping, and her yards flying round
like those of a windmill, she was borne about in a circle that narrowed
at every turn--faster and faster, deeper and deeper, round she went,
till in one wild whirl, with a sound that came over the water like the
sob of a drowning giant, she vanished--sucked into the watery profundity
of the abyss!
*CHAPTER XIX.*
*BOTHWELL AND THE GREAT BEAR.*
And do not fear the English rogues,
Nor stand of them in awe;
But hold ye fast by St. Andrew's cross
Till ye hear my whistle blaw.
Thus boarded they this gallant ship,
With right good-will and main;
But eighteen Scots were left alive,
And eighteen more were slain.
_Old Ballad of Sir A. Barton._
When Konrad with Hans Knuber, and the fourteen Norsemen who composed his
crew, were brought on board the ship of the Earl, they were immediately
led towards him. Completely armed, save the helmet, which was placed
upon the capstan, against which he leaned, the handsome form of Bothwell
never appeared to greater advantage than when among his uncouth
mariners, in their wide breeches and fur boots. His face was paler and
more grave than when Konrad had last seen him; his deep dark eyes were
melancholy and thoughtful; but his compressed lips and knitted brows
showed a steadiness of purpose and determination of aspect, that failed
not to impress the beholder. Still more pale and grave, Hepburn of
Bolton stood near him, leaning on his long sword; and, among the group
that pressed forward to scrutinize the prisoners, Konrad recognised the
faces of French Paris, Hay of Tallo, and others of the Earl's retinue.
"What strange freak of fate hath thrown thee in my path again?" he
asked, with a calm smile.
"The waves, the winds, and mine own evil destiny; for Heaven knoweth,
Lord Earl, I had no desire again to see thy face," replied Konrad.
"Well, well, I cannot feel chafed by thine honest plainness, Konrad; for
I know well I have given thee deep reason to hate me. A strange
fatality has woven our adventures together. Thou didst save me once
from the waves of this very ocean, when last for my sins I was
traversing these Norwegian seas; and I saved thee twice from
drowning--first in the crystal Clyde, under the windows of my own castle
of Bothwell; and once again when thou wert chained like a baited bear to
yonder pillar in the North Loch of Edinburgh. But come," added the
Earl, clapping him on the shoulder; "let us be friends; are the faith or
falsehood of a woman matters for two brave men to quarrel about?"
Konrad, who could not conceal the repugnance he felt at the presence of
the Earl, whom he hated as his rival, and Anna's betrayer, drew back
with a hauteur that stung the outlawed lord to the heart.
"Nay, Earl or Duke, for I know not which thou art--men style thee
both--though but a simple gentleman of Norway, a captain of crossbowmen,
with a rixmark in the day, I would not follow thy banner to obtain the
noblest of thy baronies. Our paths must be far separate. I never could
owe thee friendship, suit, service, or captainrie; and I have but one
request to make, that thou wilt land us on the nearest point of our
native shore, and we will gladly say, God speed thee on thy voyage."
"I love and esteem few, and by fewer am I loved and esteemed," replied
the Earl calmly; "but, fallen though I am, I have not yet sunk so low as
to beg the friendship of any man. Be it so. Ere nightfall, I will land
thee on yonder promontory, and the skipper knave likewise, though in
good sooth he deserves to be hanged up at yonder yard-arm, for declining
me the use of a few pitiful bags of our own Scottish wheat, when he saw
my ducal banner displayed before his eyes."
With a brief reverence the Earl retired into his cabin, where French
Paris attended to relieve him of part of that armour which he wore
constantly; for he was in hourly expectation of being assailed--from the
seaward, by ships sent in pursuit of him from Scotland--or from the
land, for his piracies and plundering on the Danish and Norwegian
shores.
"The raven's fate befall thee!" muttered Hans, thrusting his clenched
hands farther into his pockets, and gazing with blank despair upon the
vortex that, almost in sight of his haven, had swallowed up his ship.
The wind blew freshly from the fiord ahead of them, and David Wood, the
Earl's skipper, found the impossibility of making the point where he
desired to land their captives; and the sudden appearance of a large
three-masted vessel of war, which, under easy sail, came round one of
those steep headlands that overhung the water, made him bear away into
the open channel; for so great was the rage and terror their
depredations had spread on both sides of the Skager Rack, that the Earl
knew he must greet a foe in every ship under the banner of Frederick of
Denmark.
The sun had set, but the clear twilight of the long northern night
played upon the dark blue waters of the fiord, which still rippled in
silver against the wall-like rocks that hemmed them in; the air was mild
and balmy; the whole sky had that clear, cold blue, which it exhibits
among our lowland hills before sunrise; but the northern lights, that
gleamed from Iceland's snow-clad peaks, the bright pole-star, and the
myriad spangles of the milky-way, were all coming forth in their glory;
nothing could surpass the beauty of the former, as their rays, like the
gleams of a gigantic sword, flashed along the cerulean sky, behind the
wooded summits of the dark and distant hills.
"Dost thou know aught of yonder ship, Sir Skipper?" asked Bothwell of
Hans Knuber, who had been observing her approach with a stern joy which
he took no pains to conceal.
"Yes, I know her!" said Hans. "Ay, by St. Olaf! every plank in her hull
and every rope in her rigging--for my own hands helped to nail one and
reeve the other. There sails not a better craft, nor a swifter, in the
Danish waters."
"A swifter!" rejoined the Earl, looking over his poop at the waves that
curled under the counter. "I need care little for that, as Scottish men
are unused to run either on sea or land, Master Knuber. She is a
warship, I perceive."
"Thou art right, Lord Earl. She is the _Biornen_, or Great Bear, a ship
of King Frederick's, carrying sixteen great carthouns, and as many
demi-culverins; manned by three hundred mariners, and as many more
crossbowmen and cannoniers. Christian Alborg commands--an old sea-horse
as ever dipped his whiskers in salt-water--Knight of the Dannebrog and
Commandant of Ottenbrocht. Ha! dost thou behold?"
At that moment, the red Norwegian flag, bearing a golden lion grasping a
blue battle-axe, was unfurled upon the wind; the redder flash of a
cannon, gleaming across the darkening water, and the whiz of the ball,
as it passed through the rigging of the Earl's ship, announced his
recognition by the stranger.
Hans drew his hands out of his chocolate-coloured breeches, and capered
with revenge and joy as he heard it.
The ship of Bothwell was the _Fleur-de-Lys_, a galliot carrying twenty
demi-culverins, and had been one of the war-ships of James V. The Earl,
as Lord High Admiral of Scotland, had all the affairs and stores of the
naval force under his control, and thus selected her, with all her
cannon and gear, for his own particular service, and manned her with a
crew of his vassals, on whose valour and fidelity he could rely to the
last of their blood and breath.
Instead of the standard of Scotland, he ordered his own great banner,
bearing the ducal arms of Orkney quartered with those of Bothwell, to be
again displayed at the gaff-peak; from the mast-heads floated
banneroles, bearing the three red pelicans of Ormiston, the cheverons of
Bolton, the three red escutcheons of Hay of Tallo, and the pennons of
other gentlemen who followed his desperate fortune; while enraged by the
insult thus offered, in firing at once upon him, he gave immediate
orders to open the gun-ports--shot the culverins--man the poop and
topcastles with crossbowmen, and clear all for battle--orders which were
obeyed by his people with alacrity. So now we will have to describe a
sea-fight of the sixteenth century.
Both vessels were going under easy sail; but as the Earl had resolved to
give battle to his heavy antagonist, careless of the result, he
gradually shortened his way, making all secure on board as the distance
lessened between him and his Danish Majesty's ship. The crossbowmen,
with their weapons bent and bolts laid, and the arquebusiers, with
muzzles pointed and matches lit, were crouching behind the wooden
parapets of the poop and forecastle, which, like those round the tops,
were all fashioned in the shape of battlements; the cannoniers stood by
their culverins with linstock and rammer; the waist of the ship bristled
with steel caps, short pikes, two-handed swords, and jedwood axes; while
on the towering poop and forecastle were seen the mail-clad figures of
Bothwell and his knights; but, notwithstanding all this display of
bravery, as they neared the foe, they saw how fearful were the odds to
be encountered.
Each vessel came on under topsails; the courses being hauled up,
displayed the steel-bristling decks, and the polished mouths of the
brass cannon, that gleamed upon the dark blue water as they were run
through the carved and painted sides of the gunwall (_gunnel_), loaded
with bullets of stone and iron, and pebbles lapped in lead. Both
vessels were now running in the same direction, but gradually neared
each other. They were within three lance-lengths, and not a sound was
heard on board of either but the ripple under their bows; and in
breathless silence as the still twilight deepened on the ocean, the
adverse crews continued gazing on each other.
All at once a line of lights glittered along the deck of the Norwegian.