THE MAN WITH THE SCARRED CHEEK.
On a certain afternoon in December, Gilbert Oglander and Timothy
Trollope were loitering on the heights of Plymouth Hoe on their way into
the town. They were looking out across the Sound, watching the movements
of a ship that was drifting inward with the tide. A breeze from off the
sea swelled the vessel's worn and mended topsails; she moved with a
slow, lazy motion, as if in very weariness. The lads were questioning
what manner of ship she might be and whence she had come.
"'Tis an old Hollander putting in for repairs," ventured Gilbert. "I
warrant me she hath suffered some damage in the storm of yesternight."
Timothy shook his head, and then, after a short pause, he said:
"No, Master Gilbert, she is no foreigner at all, but one of our own
brave English adventurers. Look at the tattered flag waving from the
staff on her after-castle. 'Tis the red cross of St. George. And by the
decayed and grimy look of her, I'd judge that she hath been on some long
and perilous voyage--it may be to far Cathay, or the scorching coasts of
Africa, or it may even be to the Western Indies of which we have heard
so much."
"An that be so," returned Gilbert as he stood gazing with wondering
eyes upon the approaching ship, "methinks there will be some very
strange surprising things for us to see and hear when she droppeth
anchor in the haven yonder. She is deeply laden, look you. 'Tis the bars
of silver in her hold that do weigh her down, or else the heavy chests
of gold and precious stones. Ay, 'tis surely from the Spanish Main that
she hath come; for now as she beareth round I can e'en see the shining
gold-dust clinging to her sides from out her port-holes like flour-drift
from out the windows of Modbury Mill."
Timothy smiled incredulously and moved apart from his companion.
"'Tis no gold-dust that you see, my master," said he, "but only the red
iron from off her rust-eaten chains. Come, let us walk down unto the
harbour, that we may get a nearer view of her and see what manner of
voyagers she bringeth home."
They walked together down the grassy slopes. In aspect, as in their
natures, they differed one from the other as much as a heavy Flemish
horse differs from an agile Arab steed. Timothy looked much the elder,
although in truth he was his master's senior by no more than a
twelvemonth. Gilbert had much ado to keep pace with his long measured
strides, or perhaps it was his own great riding-boots of thick hard
leather coming up above his knees which made his steps seem difficult.
The strong December wind, blowing from over the Channel, caught his
ample cloak, and the garment was forever escaping from his careless
hold and flapping outward behind him, assailing his ears or getting
twisted about his long sword. As the cloak blew aside from his shoulders
it revealed the pink silk slashings of his doublet of russet velvet and
the glittering ornaments on his girdle. He wore a little velvet cap,
embroidered with gold lace and surmounted with a gallant waving feather
which was held in place by a pearl brooch.
Timothy towered a full head and shoulders above him, being indeed almost
a man in height and build, with great broad shoulders and big strong
hands and muscular arms, and plump cheeks that were as red as ripe Devon
apples. But in spite of his great bulk and his somewhat ungainly figure,
Tim was nevertheless alert and active when occasion required, as many of
his acquaintance were well aware; for at a wrestling bout, at fencing,
riding, climbing, swimming, and many other manly exercises, there were
few who could excel him. He was dressed very plainly now, as beseemed
one whose work it was to serve and to obey. His cap, which was set
jauntily on his head of curly red hair, was not of silk or velvet, but
simple knitted wool, unadorned with any gay-coloured ribbons or
flaunting feathers. He wore no lace ruff about his thick neck, but only
a simple white linen collar. His body was covered by a doublet of plain
tan-coloured leather; his wide trunks were of fustian, trimmed with
cotton braid and gartered below the knee; and he wore low shoes without
any spurs. Like his young master, he carried a sword; and he also had in
his belt a small dagger. He was well skilled in the use of both these
weapons, and during the months that he had passed in Master Oglander's
service he had imparted much of this skill to Gilbert.
By the time that the two had got down to the level ground, and had
passed through several of the quaint narrow streets leading towards the
harbour, the strange ship had sailed far to the eastward of Mill Bay;
her men were aloft furling the sails, and she was slowly drifting with
the tide into the sheltered basin of Sutton Pool.
Some fishermen and seamen had gathered in groups upon the wharf to watch
her as she came nearer, and to make conjectures as to what might be her
name and whence she had come. Gilbert Oglander strode into their midst
and stood awhile listening to their talk.
"'Tis a full three years since she sailed out of Plymouth Sound," said
one of them.
"Ay, and the rest!" declared another. "Why, 'twas in the summer of 1586
that she went out--in the self-same month, if not the same week, that
Thomas Cavendish sailed with his three ships to make the voyage round
the world, and that, as I do reckon it, must be nigh upon four years and
six months; though in truth it seemeth less. But the years do fly
amazingly in these busy times!"
"Know you the name of this vessel that is now coming in, Master
Whiddon?" asked Gilbert of a brown-faced mariner at his elbow.
"Ay, to be sure, Master Oglander," returned Whiddon. "We do make her out
to be the _Pearl_--one of Sir Walter Raleigh's ships--that went out
along with two others upon a voyage of adventure to the Brazil, or some
such place. Master Will Marsden, of Plymouth, was her captain; an old
playmate of mine own, and a right fortunate seamen in his younger days.
Well do I mind how we all envied him when he set out on this same
voyage. But alas! by the look of his ship at this moment, and the fact
that he hath come home alone and unattended, I much doubt that he hath
left the better part of his good fortune behind him. Ah, there be
blackamoors aboard of her!"
"Ay," interposed another of the group, who by his apron and his
turned-up sleeves was evidently an artisan and a landsman. "And at
seaman's work too. A woeful sign, my masters! Where be all the brave men
of Devon that set sail in her, I'd like to know? Down among the coral
and the shrimps at the bottom of the sea, I suppose, or else toiling in
Spanish galleys, imprisoned by the Inquisition, or lying dead with the
crows a-picking of their bones out yonder in Panama. 'Tis ever so with
these buccaneering cruises. I like them not, for they do ever end with
disaster."
"Thou'rt over-quick with thy conjectures, Jack Prynne," said the man
named Whiddon. "The craft is short-handed, 'tis true; but how know you
that the brave men you speak of have not given up their lives for old
England in honest fight against the Spaniards? Had you yourself been as
brave as they--God rest 'em!--you would not have taken flight from
Plymouth the last week, as you did with the other timid fools, because
of a mere idle alarm that the king of Spain was sending over another
armada, forsooth. A brave thing, truly, thus to take to your heels. Why,
man, I marvel that y'are not ashamed to show your craven face in the
town again!"
Jack Prynne stroked his beard, partly hiding his shamed face with his
big work-worn hand.
"When we went away," said he, "the town was ill-defended. Sir Francis
Drake was absent."
"The more reason why every man should have remained to protect his home
and do his duty by his neighbours," returned Whiddon. "Drake cannot well
be in two places at once. What astonisheth me is, that you should all
have come trooping back the instant you heard that Sir Francis had again
taken up his residence in the town. Sure, 'tis a very high compliment to
a man when his mere presence among us should inspire such confidence and
allay such a general panic."
"There goes her anchor!" cried Timothy Trollope. And as he spoke there
was a splash of water at the ship's bow, followed by the familiar
rumbling noise of her hempen cable as it tore through the hawse-pipe.
Now that the vessel was close at hand it could be seen that she was
very much battered by the storms and conflicts through which she had
passed during her long voyaging in distant seas. The lower timbers of
her hull were overgrown with barnacles and slimy green weeds. Above the
water-line there were many shot-holes, patched up with raw hides, sheets
of lead, or rough-hewn balks of wood; and in one place, abaft her
main-chains, a cannon-ball could be seen deeply embedded in the stout
oak. In place of her original mizzen-mast there was the trunk of a
forest tree, with the bark still upon it; and the lateen yard was made
of spliced bamboo. Her standing rigging was mended with strands of
twisted cow-hide. She was a ship of about a hundred tons burden, built
with a high castle at her poop and with bulging sides. Her bows were as
round and blunt as the breasts of the noisy sea-birds that floated near
her in the harbour, feeding on the garbage thrown from the
fishing-boats.
She had not long been at anchor when a boat was put off from her, and
was rowed by two men towards the stone-built slip beside which Gilbert
Oglander and Timothy Trollope were standing. The boat had four occupants
in addition to the two seamen who pulled at the oars. They were a
black-bearded, middle-aged man who sat on the stern gunwale, and who
seemed by his frequent commands to the rowers to be in authority; a
woman, who sat near him; a beardless youth, who was crouching down in
the bottom of the boat; and an aged, white-haired man, with a brown
sunburned face and a long silvery beard, who was bending forward over
the prow as if in desperate eagerness to spring on shore.
As the little craft came yet nearer, Timothy Trollope observed that the
passengers seemed to be no less weary and tattered than the ship from
which they had just come. The old man at the bow wore no clothing save a
ragged canvas shirt and a pair of wide, ill-made trunks. One of the
rowers had but a single sleeve to his jerkin, and his hair was long and
matted. The woman wore a large black cloak, whose hood was drawn over
her head, leaving visible no more of her than her thin olive-coloured
face and her sparkling dark eyes. She paid scarcely any regard to what
was passing, but sat like an image, gazing stonily before her.
"Ship your oar, Pascoe!" cried the man at the stern. "Pull three more
strokes, Mason!"
He rose to his feet as he gave these orders, showing himself to be very
tall. None of the men on shore seemed to know him; nor did he greet
them, even as a stranger newly arrived from foreign climes might have
been expected to do.
The old man at the bow was the first to leap on shore. And, having done
so, he fell down upon his knees, reverently pressed his lips upon the
stones, and murmured the words:
"Thanks be to God! Thanks be to God!"
Then he stood up beside the boat and held it by the gunwale while the
woman and the two other passengers stepped ashore.
Gilbert Oglander paid but small regard to them, little dreaming of the
important parts they were destined to play in his life. He only noticed
as they passed him that the tall man's otherwise handsome face was
marred by an unsightly scar on the right cheek, that the youth seemed to
be about sixteen years of age, and that the woman, when she spoke to
either of her companions, did so in a foreign tongue.
The youth who had come ashore paused for a moment, tightening his
sword-belt, and as he did so he glanced aside at the old man.
"Art going back to the ship, Jacob?" he inquired with seeming
carelessness, yet with a look of strange eagerness in his dark eyes as
if much depended upon the veteran's answer.
The graybeard slowly shook his head, and the deep-drawn sigh that issued
from his lips seemed to Gilbert Oglander to betoken a whole world of
past troubles and present gratitude.
"Wherefore should I go back, Master Philip?" said he in a husky voice.
"Have I not had enough of the pestilent old hulk, think you? I have done
all that was needed of me, I trow; and since, as you well know, I did
but engage to work my passage home, there be no wages due to me and we
are quits. As to my worldly belongings," he added with a hollow, uneasy
laugh as he rested his bony hand upon the leathern bag that hung at his
side, "this wallet containeth all my chattels and goods. Ay, all that I
am worth in the world. And little enough, you'll be saying, as the sole
outcome of all my perils and wanderings. Howbeit," he went on, not
heeding that the young man had already passed beyond hearing and was
continuing his way up the slip, "there's but small use in complaining.
And after all, God hath been truly merciful in that He hath brought me
safely back to my dear native land. Sure 'tis worth all my twenty-three
years of voyaging to be back once more in Plymouth town and to again set
foot on English ground!"
A gust of cold wind blew round one of the stone piers of the wharf near
which he lingered. He shivered slightly, and drew his ragged canvas
shirt closer about his bare chest and neck. Then his moist blue eyes
surveyed the group of men who now stood apart watching the boat
returning to the ship.
"I don't see none o' my old friends among you, my masters," said he,
looking from one to the other. "You'm all strangers to me. And
peradventure I am as great a stranger to yourselves. But the time hath
been when I was as well known in Plymouth as the tower of St. Andrew's
church yonder." A forced, unnatural smile flitted about the parched blue
lips as he added, addressing no one in particular: "Jacob Hartop is my
name--Jacob Hartop that went out with John Hawkins in the year 1567, and
that hath now come home after three-and-twenty years of foreign
travel and fighting and slavish toil."
[Illustration: "GOD HATH BEEN TRULY MERCIFUL IN THAT HE HATH BROUGHT ME
SAFELY BACK"]
He held out his hand to grasp that of one of the older men who stood
near. As he did so Timothy Trollope noticed that his wrist bore an
indented mark upon it, as if it had been too tightly clasped by a
bracelet. Several of the bystanders now shook hands with him.
"Thou'rt welcome home, friend Hartop," said one.
"God give you peace and joy, my master!" said another.
"And may you never need to wander from England's shores again!" said a
third.
Captain Whiddon then stepped forward, and said he:
"Be you related to young George Hartop that fell in the great fight
against the Invincible Armada of Spain?"
Jacob Hartop stared blankly before him. It was evident that he knew
naught of the great fight referred to. He was about to answer when the
touch of a hand on his thin bare arm caused him to turn suddenly round,
and he stood face to face with Gilbert Oglander.
"Thou'rt thinly clad, and the wind blows cold," said Gilbert as he took
off his cloak and spread it over the ancient traveller's shoulder. "I
pray you take this cloak."
The old man drew back.
"Nay, I can take no such goodly gift from one who doth owe me no manner
of kindness," he declared, attempting to remove the garment. "Believe
me, I am not so cold but that a walk and a flagon of ale will warm me."
But seeing that the offer was seriously meant he relented, and, fixing
his tearful eyes upon Gilbert, he said: "Now, prithee, my gallant young
sir, what might be your honour's name? Tell me, so that I may bear it in
memory, and think of you with the gratitude that I do truly feel."
Gilbert Oglander made a light pretence of not having heard the question,
and, followed by Timothy, he strode gaily up to the head of the slip.
The tall man with the scar on his cheek was at this moment crossing the
muddy roadway with his two companions towards a house with heavy
overhanging gables, that stood at the corner of one of the alleys. It
was a tavern, as could be known by the fact that the window lattices
were painted red, and it bore the sign of the Three Flagons. The
stranger had to bend down his head as he entered the low porchway.
"Truly a man may be known by the hostelry he chooseth," remarked Timothy
Trollope as he saw the woman's skirts disappear behind the door-post. "I
had thought by their favour that these people were of high station and
good breeding, and that by their great haste to quit their ship they
were intent upon travelling yet farther into the country, haply to some
famous old estate. But 'tis plain to see that they do intend to abide at
the humble Three Flagons. 'Tis a cheap inn and an ill-managed.
Nevertheless, I should engage that they will have better comfort withal
than on board the cranky old _Pearl_. Think you that the man with the
wounded cheek is her captain?"
Gilbert shrugged his shoulders.
"A ship's master would scarcely be the first to quit her on coming into
port," said he; "although, indeed, it may well be that the man's
gallantry hath brought him ashore thus speedily in his wish to place the
woman and her son in decent lodgings."
"And, prithee, wherefore do you so readily make up your mind that the
lad is her son?" inquired Timothy.
"For the simple and plain reason that her eyes and his have got the
self-same foreign look in them," answered Gilbert. "But wherefore should
we discuss these people? Foreigners as they are, they can be of no
earthly interest to us, now or hereafter. As to the ship, well, had we
but gone aboard of her we might have learned something of more value
touching the adventures she hath gone through; but as the matter stands,
Tim, we have but wasted a good half-hour of time, and shall not now be
home until after dark."