THE OLD BUCCANEER.
The sun shone brightly that morning in a clear blue sky, shedding a
glistening light upon the bare wet branches of the trees, and upon the
little pools of water that lay in the hollows of the land and between
the deep long furrows of the ploughed fields. The sleety snow of the
previous night had not rested, but had left the ground soft and slushy,
and as Timothy Trollope strode down one of the narrow lanes in the
direction of the home-farm his great boots sank deep into the mud at
every stride.
"'Tis true enough. God wot 'tis true I am no gentleman," he said to
himself as he went along, regardless of the mire. "Nevertheless, I like
not the lad's manner of telling me so. 'Twas ill-bred, at the least; and
doubly hurtful in that 'twas true. Haply he knew by my raiment, or by my
speech, or my ungainly movements, that I am lowly born. 'Tis passing
strange how these gentlefolks do know their own class. They will
recognize a man of good breeding from across the street, and tell him
from a churl though he have not so much as opened his lips. And yet 'tis
not the fashion of his coat that doth proclaim him a gentleman, else
would Philip Oglander himself be writ down the veriest varlet, for a
more ill-favoured fashion than his I have not seen upon a gentleman
these many days. Nay, I like him not, despite Master Gilbert. And his
words do rankle in me like the sting of a wasp. '_I thank you; but so
please you, I had rather take my lessons from a gentleman._' A
gentleman, forsooth! Marry, I have taught a better gentleman than him to
use the rapier. Howbeit, there is a medicine for every malady, and it
may be that yon simpering fool shall some day take from me a lesson that
he wots not of."
At the end of the lane Timothy came upon some men who were at work
thatching the roof of one of the farm cottages. The man at the foot of
the ladder was Jake Thew, the same who had ridden in pursuit of the
robbers.
"What ho there, Jake!" cried Timothy, as he clambered up to the gate.
"Didst catch a sight of those rascally Egyptians yesternight?"
"More than a sight, Master Trollope; I catched themselves," came the
ready answer. "That is to say, Thomas Lee and I did catch 'em. Thomas
rid round by the highroad with William his son. They doubled at the
corner of Beddington Lane with intent to meet us in the dingle. We met
nigh upon half a mile from the spot where Master Gilbert was wounded,
sir. The three of us did scour the country-side, now this way, now that,
until well upon midnight; and at last we came upon the vagabonds lying
hidden in a place that we'd passed a good half-dozen times--Beddington
Dingle to wit. Thomas Lee let fire his pistol upon them, though
purposely aiming above their heads, lest he should kill one of them and
so be brought up for murder; and the rascals surrendered. So we carried
them off and lodged them in Plymouth gaol, sir, where they both now
are."
"Both?" echoed Timothy. "And were there not three of them in all?"
Jake left the foot of the ladder, his companions being now on the
cottage roof, and waded through the mud to where Timothy was.
"Nay, sir, there were but two; we sought for three, but the third had
made good his escape. And well for him that he did so, for 'twas he--so
Robert Harvey avers--who ran his rapier into Master Gilbert's arm."
"Plague on the man!" cried Timothy, in vexation. "But we shall catch him
yet, I promise you. Prithee, did the constable search the men ere you
came away?"
"There was small need to search 'em, my master. The booty they took was
scarce so portable as to be stowed away beneath their jerkins. We found
it all in two great meal-sacks that they carried off from the barn. And
a pretty catalogue it was withal--_item_, three young capons; _item_,
one fat hen; _item_, a sucking pig, divers farm implements, and a lordly
goose that Dame Trevenen the hen-wife was feeding up for Christmas."
"Ay, a goodly haul, o' my conscience," agreed Timothy. "But found ye
nought of what the rogues stole from the old man?"
"Nay," answered Jake with a shake of his head. "Although 'tis true that
young Robin Redfern passing through the dingle early this morning, did
come upon an old and worthless wallet, which might indeed have belonged
to the man you speak of. 'Twas empty, though--empty as a hatched
egg,--and Robin left it where it lay among last year's brambles."
"Ah! he had better have brought it with him," said Timothy, "for it will
serve as evidence to convict the thieves alike of the stealing of the
poultry and the wounding of Master Gilbert. And now," he added, "what
canst tell me touching this same old man? Didst see him yesternight
after I left him on the road?"
Jake Thew nodded and smiled.
"That we did, my master," said he. "We encountered him nigh unto Modbury
Bridge. He was tramping along full contented and jovial, singing lustily
enough to wake the very birds in the trees. 'Twas the ballad of _The
Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green_ that he sang. And in truth he might
well have been that same beggar himself, so ill-favoured was he, and so
poorly clad withal."
"Ay," rejoined Trollope, "but, if I mind aright, your beggar man of
Bednall Green did turn out in the end to be a man of substance, and more
wealthy than any one of his daughter's wooers. Whereas this Jacob Hartop
hath not a groat in the world to call his own, saving what he may claim,
by virtue of his calling, from the seamen's chest at Chatham, which Sir
Francis Drake hath made for the relief of aged mariners."
"He will not want for friendly help in these parts, howsoever," remarked
Thew, "for it seemeth he was born in Modbury village, and there be many
there still living who have some remembrance of him as a young man ere
he went upon the sea, and who will gladly give him both food and
shelter. There is the widow Frampton for one, who took him into her
cottage yesternight and gave him a supper and a bed, by reason that he
sailed in the same ship with her goodman to the Spanish Main. You will
find him there even now, sir, if so be you would see him."
Timothy waited only to make certain further inquiries concerning the
identity of the two men who had been taken to the gaol, and then set off
on his way down to the village.
He went first to the widow Frampton's cottage, a clean little thatched
dwelling, with the dry and faded stalks of honeysuckle about the
trellised porch and a tiny garden in front. He asked for Jacob Hartop,
and was told that the old man had wandered out to enjoy the fresh
morning air. Timothy inquired which way he had gone, and was told that
he would perhaps find him down beside the sign of the Champernoun Arms,
as he had said before going out that he had a mind to have a gossip with
some of the villagers over a pot of home-brewed ale.
Timothy made his way along the street past many whitewashed cottages,
all curiously striped with cross beams of black oak, and looking very
sweet and cosy with their thatched roofs and their smoking chimneys. A
turn in the road brought him within a few yards of the village well.
About a dozen curly-headed boys and girls stood round it, and in their
midst, sitting on the stone parapet that encircled the fountain, was
Jacob Hartop. He was easily known by the fact that he still wore Gilbert
Oglander's cloak, with its badge of the Oglanders on the shoulder. The
old man's back was towards Timothy, and the lad went quietly up behind
him until he came within sound of his voice. Jacob was holding forth to
his juvenile audience on the precious virtues of pure water, a cup of
which liquid he held in his right hand, resting on his knee.
"Ay," he was saying as Timothy drew near, "I told ye but a little while
ago of all the gold and precious stones that I possessed--enough and
more in value, as I say, to buy up all Plymouth and Modbury. Well, I
would, at times, willingly have given the whole of that treasure for one
such little cup of water as this. Ah! 'tis a terrible thing to be dying
of thirst, my boys, as many of our brave men were a-dying at that time
aboard the _Golden Galleon_. 'Tis to be compared only with the tortures
of the Inquisition. But there, bairns, methinks I have talked enough
about myself and my ship. What would ye next--a song--a fairy tale?"
Timothy was about to break into the circle, but the voice of a
yellow-haired little maid of some ten or eleven years old checked him.
"You did say you would tell us of Captain Drake," she said.
"Yes," chimed in a boy at her elbow, "thou didst say we should hear how
it was that Sir Francis was crippled. I have oft wondered, when I have
seen him going up to my lord's great house yonder, how it was that he
came to walk lame."
Hartop laid his cup of water aside on the parapet of the well, and took
the yellow-haired maid in his arms and perched her upon his knee. The
other children gathered closer round him.
"You must know, then," he began, looking from one to the other of the
rosy faces, "that our great enemies the Spaniards have long been famous
for the vast wealth that they have gathered out yonder in the islands
that we name the West Indies. Every year King Philip doth send out a
fleet of his galleons to bring home to Spain their cargoes of silver and
gold. 'Tis that same vast wealth that hath made him able to fit out his
armadas and pay his armies of soldiers to fight against your fathers.
Now Queen Elizabeth (God bless her!) hath ever been anxious to stop
those treasures from crossing over to Spain, and she hath allowed
Captain Drake and others of her great seamen, as well as such more
humble buccaneers as myself, to rove the Spanish Main and capture such
treasure-ships as came in their way, also to land their forces on the
Spanish islands and strip King Philip's treasure-houses of the gold and
silver therein stored."
At this point Timothy Trollope, being somewhat interested in the
narrative, sat down on the edge of the well with his back against one of
the pillars of the winch.
"One such treasure-house was at a place which the Spaniards called
Nombre de Dios," continued Hartop, "a town of the same size as Plymouth.
The great building in which all the gold and silver was stored was named
the Treasure House of the World, and I promise you it well merited the
name. If all the cottages in Modbury village were made of solid silver
and the church there of solid gold, there would yet be less than was
contained in the place I speak of. All the ships now lying in Plymouth
harbour would not have been able to carry it away, though they had gone
all together and made two voyages over their work.
"Now Captain Drake made up his mind to have that treasure and carry it
off, even though he should cast it all into the deep sea before he came
home again to England; for he well knew that if it should ever reach
Spain King Philip would thus be made so rich that he could build more
ships of war than any other monarch in all the world. So to Nombre de
Dios did Drake take his ships. Their crews were made up of the best
young men of Devon."
"And were you also with Drake at that time, Master Hartop?" asked one of
the elder boys, whose name was Robin Redfern.
"I had that honour; yes," said Hartop. "And well I mind the night that
we landed. 'Twas a stormy night. The clouds were as black as my cloak,
and the rain was such as you never saw in dear old England. By
misfortune the Spaniards got wind of our coming, and we had but reached
the main street of the town when they sounded the alarm. They blew their
trumpets, they rang their great bells, their soldiers appeared in vast
numbers at every corner, firing their muskets and their arrows into our
midst. Many of our best men fell. But Captain Drake still urged us on,
and we gladly followed his lead, for we knew that, despite the greater
number of our enemies, we were more than equal to them in bravery, and
that the gold was still within our reach--that, indeed, Master Oxenham
and Captain Drake's brother John had already gone round with their men
to break open the treasure-house doors. While these our comrades were
thus occupied, Captain Drake meant to return to the middle of the town
and engage our enemies in a wide, open market-place. Be called to us to
follow him thither. He stepped briskly forward to lead the way, and then
with a cheery cry on his lips he suddenly rolled over in the wet sand,
with his face as white as this little lady's frock.
"'Twas daylight by that time, and I had myself seen that with every step
he had taken, for the distance of it may be half a mile, he had left the
imprint of his foot in blood. Ever since our first encounter with the
Spaniards he had been secretly struggling against a desperate wound in
his leg, saying never a word about it, but hiding it lest the knowledge
of it might dishearten us. He had gone bravely on until he could no
longer stand. There, lying well-nigh dead upon the sand, he beseeched us
to proceed with our work. We refused, and he grew angry. Again and again
he entreated us, but we told him--which was no more than the truth--that
his life was dearer to us than all the wealth of the Indies. We carried
him down to our boats and took him aboard his ship, leaving the
Spaniards and their wealth behind. And that was the end of our attempt
upon the Treasure House of the World.
"'Twas long ere Captain Drake was well enough to leave his bed, but ever
since that time he hath walked with a limp in his gait. May he walk
through this life for many and many a year yet to come, say I!"
"Amen to that!" chimed in Timothy Trollope, rising and walking round to
the other side of the well and greeting Jacob Hartop.
The old man looked very different now from the weary and storm-tossed
wanderer of the night before. His weather-beaten face had been newly
washed, and was of a clear ruddy brown, albeit wrinkled with many lines
that were as the river courses upon a map. His silvery hair and beard
had been trimmed and combed, and he wore a small white ruff that covered
from view his thin and scraggy neck. Some kindly villagers had given him
a shepherd's jacket of russet frieze with red sleeves, a pair of thick
start-up boots, and a pair of rough cloth stockings. He lifted the
yellow-haired maid from his knee and stood up, taking Timothy's hand.
"How fares your young master?" he inquired; and when Timothy had told
him, he bade farewell to the children and walked by the tall young
fellow's side towards the bridge that crossed the little river. There he
paused as if about to turn back, but Timothy drew him on, telling him
that Lord Champernoun had ordered that if he could be found he was to be
brought up to the manor-house.
"My lord was ill pleased that you came not yesternight," said Tim. "And
it seemeth that Sir Walter Raleigh, hearing that you had been in the
Indies, hath also expressed a wish to have speech with you."
"Sir Walter Raleigh?" repeated Hartop in a tone of surprise. "Ah! then
'tis my bounden duty to go with you. I knew not that he was within a
hundred miles of this place. And I have news for him. But I gave you my
reasons for avoiding Modbury Manor at this present time. I wanted not to
meet again with Master Jasper Oglander, of whom, God wot, I have already
seen more than pleaseth me. I wot well that he did intend to go thither
yesternight. Didst find him there when ye went in, prithee?"
Timothy nodded. "We found him and his son at the table when we carried
Master Gilbert into the dining-hall," he said.
"And the sigñora his wife? Was not she also present?" asked the old man,
glancing up at Timothy as it were with the corner of his eye.
"No," answered Trollope; "I heard naught of her."
"Ah!" returned Hartop in a tone which Timothy did not exactly
understand.
And then, after a few moments' silence, Jacob added, as if speaking to
himself: "'Tis as I judged, then--and yet--?"
Timothy stroked his upper lip meditatively, and then, turning abruptly
upon the old mariner: "Now, prithee, what doubts and questions art thou
turning over in thy mind?" he inquired.
Jacob Hartop set his eyes straight before him up the long lane and
strode on in resolute silence. But Timothy was pertinacious; he nudged
his elbow against Jacob's arm.
"I'll tell thee what thou'rt thinking, Master Hartop," said he smiling.
"Thou'rt thinking that 'tis passing strange that Jasper Oglander and his
son were so close at hand at the time that thou wert robbed--nay, more,
I'll warrant me thou'rt even questioning whether they were not
themselves the very men who robbed thee."
Jacob Hartop suddenly came to a stand-still and stared at Timothy in
wonderment.
"By St George," he exclaimed, "thou'rt a very 'cute and promising lad,
Timothy! Beshrew me if thou'st not hit upon my veritable thoughts! 'Twas
that in truth that I was questioning. But there be many points,
nevertheless, that seem to disprove the suspicion; as, firstly, if
Jasper and his son sought to rob me, why did they not rob me aboard the
ship, where the matter was as easy as eating and drinking? Secondly, if
'twas they who robbed me, how came it that there was a third man in the
work with them? And who might that third man have been? But on the other
hand, mark you, if 'twas not they who did it, who else were my
assailants? Who other than they could have known that I had aught about
me that was worth the robbing?"
"Ah! then you were not so poor as you did look?" cried Timothy. "You did
indeed carry something of value in your wallet?"
"'Twas something which would most certainly have been accounted of
value--of the most exceeding value--by Queen Elizabeth, or Francis
Drake, or Walter Raleigh, or even perchance by my Lord Champernoun, but
by few else," answered Jacob Hartop. "Your common footpad rascal who
seeketh for that which will buy him bread would peradventure have cast
it into the fire, not guessing at its import."
"And yet you hinted but a moment ago that Jasper Oglander did know you
had that about you which was worth the robbing," said Timothy.
"Ay, but Jasper Oglander is different," returned Hartop gravely. "He is
without honour, and without conscience, a vile dissembler, and--" He
broke off, recollecting that Timothy was a servant in Modbury Manor,
and that it was therefore unwise to speak thus of Lord Champernoun's
son. "But why should I catalogue his faults?" he continued. "If you
would learn more of him, you have but to question Sir Francis Drake, who
will haply tell you more than I dare tell. 'Twas indiscreet in me to
mention Jasper in this connection; but your own remark took me unawares.
Nevertheless I am by no means certain that it was not indeed Jasper
Oglander who attacked and robbed me yesternight--to say nothing of the
wounding of your young master who rescued me--and I am minded to find
out the truth, though it cost me until the end of the year in the search
for it."
"You might better have said to the end of this lane," smiled Timothy,
"for I can at once set your mind at ease. Like yourself, Master Hartop,
I had vaguely suspected that Jasper Oglander had had a hand in this
affair; but he hath given my suspicions a very positive denial, for he
hath declared that both he and Master Philip did journey round by the
highroad, and were nowhere near to Beddington Dingle. Also, the actual
thieves have been discovered."
Hartop glanced at Timothy with a curious light in his eyes.
"And yet," said he, "I traced both Jasper and Philip's footprints in the
snowy ground of Beddington Lane. What should that bode, I pray you?"
"Tut!" retorted Timothy. "How know you their footprints from those of
any other honest folk?"
The old mariner answered with quiet deliberation, and with a firmness
that seemed to show that he had little doubt upon the matter:
"By the token that Jasper Oglander's feet do turn slightly inward as he
walks, and by the fact that his boots be pointed at the toes, in the
Spanish fashion. By the token, too, that in the snow, hard against the
left bootmark of him who walked by his side, there was here and there a
little line, made by the point of a rapier scabbard--made, as I take it,
by the point of Philip Oglander's rapier, which, if you will have
occasion to observe, is a weapon of unusual length."
"Marry!" cried Trollope. "Thou art surely a very bloodhound in thy skill
at tracking!"
"'Tis an art that hath oft served me in good stead," returned Hartop. "I
learned it from John Hawkins. And, touching this matter of the wounding
of Master Gilbert, didst chance to regard the fashion of his adversary's
sword-play?"
Timothy shook his head. "I knew naught of the encounter till 'twas
over," he answered. "Yet wait; Master Gilbert did indeed tell me this
morning that the man had enwrapped his guard arm with the skirt of his
cloak."
"Ay, Philip Oglander's own method. I had guessed so much," said Hartop
with a confident nod of his head.
"What?" exclaimed Timothy. "You will say that it was Philip Oglander?
'Tis not possible, man. Why, the lad's own father informed us only this
morning that Philip was but a dullard--a very dunce--at the use of the
rapier. The lad admitted as much also, and even spoke of taking lessons
from Master Gilbert. It is not possible, I say."
"Ah! I do perceive that thou art yet but a simple countryman, Master
Trollope," rejoined Jacob Hartop as he paused at the edge of a great
slough of mud that was in front of him and turned to his companion. "A
simple country lad that doth see no guile, knowing not of man's manifold
wickednesses. But thou'lt learn wisdom with growing years. . . . And so
he declared that his son was but a dullard at sword-play, eh? Hark'ee,
my lad; attend to an old man's counsel; and when Jasper Oglander--ay, or
his son--doth say that a thing is white, believe thou that 'tis in truth
black. When he doth declare that he is a devout and zealous Protestant,
believe thou that he is in truth an ardent and bigoted Papist. When he
doth declare--as I doubt not he soon will--that he is heart and soul for
Queen Elizabeth, believe thou that he is all in all for King Philip and
Spain. When--"
"Enough!" exclaimed Timothy drawing back a step in anger. "I will hear
no more. You are the man's enemy and do but speak against him falsely.
He hath given you his help, and yet you turn against him and decry him
as though he were a very villain. You say that it was he who robbed you.
I tell you 'tis false--false as your own calumnies. Ay, and I will prove
its falseness, for the men who robbed you have been caught. They were
caught at a late hour yesternight and are now lying in Plymouth gaol."
The old man started at Timothy, astonished and perplexed. Then he turned
and carefully picked his way across the slough of mud, saying never a
word. At length, when the lad again came to his side, he said very
calmly:
"Are you certain sure of this that you tell me, Master Trollope? Are you
certain that these men have been caught?"
"Certain," Timothy answered curtly. And they continued their journey in
silence.
At this same time Baron Champernoun was in his great gloomy library with
Sir Walter Raleigh and Raleigh's cousin, Sir Richard Grenville. His
lordship was seated before the fire in a large arm-chair, with his head
supported upon pillows and his feet propped up in front of him on a high
hassock. Raleigh had been writing at the table, but had now swung round
his chair and sat with his two hands clasping one of his knees, looking
down at the crimson rosette that adorned his dainty shoe. Grenville
stood with his back to the cheek of the fireplace. He was a tall,
broad-shouldered seaman of about fifty years of age, with dark curly
hair and a full, pointed beard that was sprinkled with gray. There was
an easy, careless look about him, and his voice when he spoke seemed to
have in it something of the deep low murmur of the sea.
"Ay, cousin Walter," he was saying, "thou hast made a stroke of ill-luck
for once with this _Pearl_. She hath never brought thee much profit to
speak of, and this last adventure of hers doth bring her misfortunes to
a climax. 'Tis the first time I have known a ship come home from the
Indies lacking a cargo that would amply repay her owners for their
outlay. And her crew, from what Master Jasper hath told us, are of as
little value as herself, what with graybeards for sailing-masters and
negroes for seamen. I never saw the negro yet who could handle a rope or
trim a sail. 'Tis surprising to me that with such a ship's company the
craft hath ever reached port. What wilt do with the old hulk now,
Walter,--break it up for firewood, or sell it to thine enemy?"
"Sell the ship, Raleigh,--sell her to Jasper Oglander," interposed Lord
Champernoun with a chuckling laugh. "I'll go to the expense of fitting
her out anew for him. 'Twill be a cheap enough way of getting rid of him
for another year or two."
"I will sell her most willingly, baron, an you are serious," remarked
Raleigh. "But I promise you it would be cheaper far to build a new
vessel altogether. The _Pearl_ is one of your old-fashioned craft. We
have made an hundred improvements in our ships since she was
launched--thanks to John Hawkins and other skilled and worthy
navigators. We have devised the striking of the topmast, together with
the chain-pump. We have invented studding sails, top-gallant sails,
sprit sails, topsails. We now weigh our anchors by the capstan. Our
hulls are now built on longer keels than formerly, with lowered
superstructure and finer lines, which make them swifter and capable of
carrying more sail. Compare such a heavy cumbrous ship as the _Pearl_
with our vessels of the newer sort, such as the _Revenge_. The
improvement is too great to admit of controversy."
"Thou'rt right, cousin Walter," said Grenville, advancing a step and
seating himself on an oak settle that stood beyond the too-great warmth
of the fire. "Wiseacres, who knew less than we, declared that our new
ships would be too crank to carry sail, and only fit for smooth water,
and they foretold that they would surely founder in the heavy seas of
the Atlantic. But the result hath disproved their prophecies."
"The high charging of ships was but a huge mistake," pursued Raleigh.
"Those towering castles at stern and prow did but increase the ship's
leeway, made her sink too deep in the water, and tended to overset her."
"I am not learned in these matters," remarked Lord Champernoun with some
impatience. "But touching that ship the _Revenge_, which you mentioned
just now, Raleigh, did I not hear some weeks since that she had met with
some grave disaster?"
Sir Walter Raleigh picked up his quill from the table and began idly to
nibble at the feather end, leaving his cousin to answer the question.
"'Twas a small matter, as things have turned out," said Grenville; "and
although it might indeed have been serious, yet there was not a single
life lost. She was riding at her moorings in the river Medway, off the
town of Rochester, with naught but her bare masts overhead, and in a
great storm of wind and weather she suddenly turned topsy-turvy, her
keel uppermost. Howsoever, they have righted her now, and she is being
refitted for her next voyage, whithersoever that may be."
"Her destination hath not yet been decided upon," remarked Raleigh. "But
there is talk of her being despatched to join others of Her Majesty's
ships that are now lying in wait off the Western Islands to intercept
and capture the Spanish plate fleet, which should be returning from
Havana at about this time. But I much doubt that 'tis already too late
for her to enter upon that journey, and it may be that she will be
commissioned for the expedition to Panama."
Sir Richard Grenville slowly rose to his feet, and touching Raleigh on
the shoulder, "Look you, cousin Walter," he said, "'tis not often that I
do ask you a favour, but an you love me I would beseech you to use your
influence with Her Majesty on my account, and advise her with all your
eloquence to graciously appoint me to the command of the _Revenge_."
"Thou shalt have it, Dick; on my honour thou shalt have it," returned
Raleigh, turning about and clapping the rough seaman on the broad back.
"Ay," interposed Lord Champernoun, "and thou shalt take my young
grandson Gilbert with thee, Grenville. I had rather he learned
seamanship under thee than under any other man in all Her Majesty's
service."
At this moment there was a knock at the library door, and Timothy
Trollope entered, followed by Jacob Hartop.