CONCERNING A STOLEN LETTER.
Timothy had given the old man a pair of cloth shoes in place of the
mud-covered boots that he had worn on his walk from the village, and had
himself changed his rough outdoor clothes for a suit of dark-blue
frieze.
"What have we here?" questioned the baron, turning in his chair and
looking towards the door.
"'Tis Master Jacob Hartop, my lord," answered Timothy, "the same who was
robbed yesternight."
"That matter is settled, for the men are arrested," said his lordship
with a wave of his thin white hand that was meant for a dismissal. "I
have now no need of the man's evidence. You had best take him down to
the town and let Justice Oldfield examine him." His eyes rested upon
Hartop for a moment. "Yet stay," he added. And then, addressing Hartop,
he said: "Art thou a man of Devon, prithee?"
"I am, your lordship," answered Jacob. "So please you, I am Modbury
born, and did serve your lordship's family in my youth--until, my lord,
your father got me a ship and I went to sea."
"How long time have you been absent from England?" Lord Champernoun
asked, gazing dreamily into the fire.
"'Tis nigh upon three-and-twenty years since last I trod upon these
shores," the old mariner answered.
"What is your history during all those years?" pursued the nobleman.
"A troublous one, my lord. So please you, I was one of Captain John
Hawkins' men that went out with him from Plymouth in the year fifteen
hundred and sixty-seven. I was his master's mate aboard the _Minion_,
and was with him in his fight at San Juan de Ulloa. Captain Hawkins left
me, with certain others, in Mexico, where I remained for two years,
until I fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who carried me off to
Spain. I was a prisoner in the Contratation House of Cadiz for twelve
months, and a slave in one of the galleys of Don Andrea Doria for two
years more, being present as a slave on that admiral's flag-ship at the
battle of Lepanto." He broke off, glancing nervously from one to the
other of the company. At the mention of the battle of Lepanto Sir
Richard Grenville raised his eyebrows. No one spoke, however, and
presently the old buccaneer continued:
"Transferred to one of King Philip's great galleons, I was taken once
more to the Spanish Indies; but by God's providence the galleon was
captured on the high seas by Captain Ned Horseley, the English
buccaneer, and I was by him handed over to Captain Francis Drake. Under
Drake, so please you, I served at the attack on Nombre de Dios, and at
the taking of Porto Bello in the year seventy-two. Again I fell into the
hands of our enemies, and was for eight long years in the Everlasting
Prison Remediless in Hispaniola; since when I have been in the
Indies--in Darien, in Brazil, in Virginia. I had the good fortune to
come into possession of a great galleon, with which I roved the seas,
making many conquests and gaining great wealth. But again I had the ill
fortune to lose her. Thereafter I found my way out to the Western
Indies, and have now come back from Havana in the good ship _Pearl_."
His listeners nodded and smiled as he ended his narrative.
"What say you to that, Sir Walter?" asked Lord Champernoun, turning to
Raleigh.
"A goodly record, o' my conscience," returned Sir Walter. And glancing
towards Hartop he added: "And so thou hast been robbed--eh, my man?
Prithee, what might have been the value of your stolen property?"
Hartop hesitated and looked a little confused. At last he said, bowing
to Raleigh:
"So please your honour, is it to Sir Walter Raleigh that I do now
speak?"
Sir Walter Raleigh nodded. "Yes, I was asking thee the value of thy
stolen goods."
"Nay, I know not precisely," answered Hartop. "It might be about the
value of five or six hundred pounds in the form of pearls and emeralds
and gew-gaws of such sort. But of these I care naught, for there was
that in my wallet which I had rather have given my life than lose--a
letter addressed to your worshipful self, that I was bidden to give with
all speed into your honour's hands. I had thought it was safe in the
pocket of my hose until late yesternight, but then I minded that ere I
left the ship I put it into my wallet. And 'tis gone--God forgive me,
'tis gone!"
"From Havana, say you?" cried Sir Walter Raleigh doubtingly. "Prithee,
who writ it?"
"Captain William Marsden, please your worship."
"Marsden?" echoed Raleigh. "But he is dead. He died ere the _Pearl_ set
sail on her homeward voyage. Jasper Oglander told me so. 'Twas of a
malarial fever that he died."
Hartop shook his head and rejoined very calmly: "No; so please your
worship 'twas not fever. Master Oglander must surely have been
misinformed, or else--" He broke off, glancing apprehensively at Lord
Champernoun. "Captain Marsden was murdered, your worship, and he writ
the letter, knowing beforehand that his life was menaced."
"Some treachery at work, eh?" muttered Sir Walter. "Well, and the
letter. Dost know naught of its purport?"
"Naught saving the words that the captain spake as he gave it unto me,"
answered Hartop. "They were these: 'Guard the letter with thy life,
Hartop, and let no Spaniard or friend of Spain know aught of its
existence. Deliver it into the hands of Sir Walter Raleigh wheresoever
he may be found, and, failing him, any one of Her Majesty's privy
councillors. If thou shouldst fall into the hands of our enemies,
destroy the letter. If thou shouldst lose it, which Heaven forfend, go
still to Raleigh and tell him this: tell him that the King of Spain's
people in the Indies have gathered together here in the treasure-houses
of Havana the vastest store of silver and gold that hath ever been known
upon earth, and that it is the intention of the King to have all this
treasure transported into Spain, to the end that he may--in revenge for
the great loss he hath lately suffered at the hands of England--build a
yet greater armada than that of two years ago, wherewith to invade and
conquer our Queen's dominions. Bid Sir Walter bear this in mind: that
the taking of that treasure into Spain doth mean nothing short of the
downfall of England and all her glory upon the seas.'"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Sir Walter, striding to and fro athwart the end
of the table. "But all this I did know passing well before--although,
indeed I was scarce aware that the treasure was so great. Even now at
this present time Hawkins and Frobisher are lying in wait with their
ships at the Azores, with intent to intercept the Spanish galleons."
"Your pardon, sir, but so please you I am not done," returned Jacob
Hartop. "The more important part is to come. King Philip of Spain, it
seemeth from what Captain Marsden told me, is fully aware that the
English ships are even now lying in wait for his galleons; and the
captain bade me tell your honour that if matters remain as they now are,
those ships will continue so to lie inactive until their hulls be all
eaten with the worm and their crews all dead of famine and disease."
"And how so?" demanded Raleigh in a loud voice. "Are they not as well
equipped as any fleet that ever sailed out of England, quotha?"
Hartop shrank back, overawed by the great courtier's imperative manner.
"I am striving to repeat Captain Marsden's message," he said meekly; and
then he went on more boldly: "Inclosed with the letter I have so
unfortunately lost there was, I believe (although I of course saw it
not), a copy of King Philip's own private instructions to the admiral of
the plate fleet, sent out secretly to Havana. They arrived there but
three days before Captain Marsden received his intelligence. Those
instructions were to the effect that the galleons were to remain in
Havana throughout the winter, and to set sail on the first day of the
month of March next, by which time the English ships, their hulls rotten
and their crews reduced by pestilence, would be too weak to offer any
obstacle."
"Ah, now do I begin to perceive some daylight!" exclaimed Sir Walter
Raleigh--"as much, it may be, as if I had e'en read the letter thou hast
guarded so ill." He turned to Lord Champernoun. "That letter must be
found," he said. "It will go ill with us if it fall into the hands of
any friend of Spain. I beg thee to see to it in such wise as may seem
most expedient. In the meantime--although I am sorry to abridge my so
pleasant visit--I must hie me back to London. Cousin Dick," he added,
nodding to Captain Grenville, "there is work for thee in this matter, I
do promise thee."
Timothy Trollope had not heard this conversation. Having ushered Jacob
Hartop into Lord Champernoun's presence, he had withdrawn from the
library and made his way up the stairs to his young master's bedroom.
The sound of merry laughter greeted him from within as he reached the
door. He knocked and entered, and found Gilbert sitting up in bed with a
smile on his face, and with his bandaged arm resting in a sling of
brilliant red silk. The Lady Betty sat at his bedside, at work with her
needle upon a piece of tapestry; Drusilla, seated on a low stool at her
mother's feet, was nursing a litter of mewing kittens. Philip Oglander
occupied a chair close by, and was speaking when Timothy appeared,
entertaining his cousins by his descriptions of life in Brazil, of
adventurous journeys through primeval forests, of horseback rides across
the wide pampas, and dream-like voyages among the islands of the
Antilles.
"And prithee, cousin Philip, didst never go to any school out there in
those beauteous places?" asked Drusilla.
And Philip answered:
"Nay, there be neither schools nor colleges in the Brazil, saving only
those which are kept up by the Jesuit fathers, and with them and their
Romish fashions I could have no dealings."
"And yet thou'rt not lacking in classical knowledge," remarked Lady
Betty with a smile, as she plied her busy needle; "for I heard thee but
a little while since reading to Gilbert out of his book of Virgil, and
it seemeth to me that thy skill in the Latin tongue doth greatly excel
that of many English boys I have known who have studied at the great
colleges of Oxford."
At this Philip shrugged his shoulders and affected to make light of the
accomplishment, concealing the fact that it was one of those same Jesuit
priests who had taught him in one of the Romish colleges of Brazil.
Lady Betty smiled at him yet again. "Thou'rt too modest, Master Philip,"
said she.
"Ay," added Gilbert; "but I have observed that Philip doth ever strive
to avoid all vain boastfulness."
"'Tis a commendable quality," remarked his mother.
Clearly did it appear to Timothy Trollope that Philip had already won
his way into the good opinion of his relatives, and that they were
disposed to like him, not only because of his relationship, but also, as
it seemed, because of a certain air of natural courtliness that revealed
itself in his manner of speech. Moreover, there was an attraction in his
dark handsome face and in his dreamy beautiful eyes which made him very
winsome. Even Timothy, who had from the first taken a strong prejudice
against him, could not but admit to himself that there was something of
inborn nobility about the lad which might give the lie to all that old
Hartop had hinted regarding him.
Later on that same day, when Sir Walter Raleigh and his retinue had
departed, Timothy took horse and rode in to Plymouth to attend the
examination of the two poachers before Justice Oldfield. Jacob Hartop,
Bob Harvey, and Jake Thew had ridden in advance of him, and he did not
overtake them until they were on the outskirts of the town, at a little
wayside hostelry where their horses were stabled, and thence they walked
to the court-house.
Hartop and Timothy walked together along by the harbour, when, on
approaching the quay against which the good ship _Pearl_ was now lying,
they came upon a crowd of men--mariners, fishermen, and merchants--who
appeared to be greatly concerned in some matter which was going on in
their midst.
[Illustration: "AND HOW FARES IT WITH THEE, OLD SHIPMATE?"]
"Ah! I can e'en guess what 'tis," said Hartop. "'Tis Captain Evans
putting up our crew of blackamoors to auction. He bought 'em over in
Florida, lacking better hands, to work the ship home. Ay, and a sorry
lot they proved, Master Timothy. I warrant he'll get scarce a half of
the price he gave for them. Thou seest the black woolly poll of the tall
African who is standing upon the wine-cask close against the auctioneer?
We named him Æsop, by reason of his fables. He was once upon a time the
reigning king of a country nigh unto Sierra Leone, with as many wives as
there be days in the year. Captain Hawkins captured him and sold him to
the Spaniards. He served as our cook aboard the _Pearl_, and I promise
you he made such soup as the Queen herself might relish. As for his
manner of cooking a cutting from off the side of a shark, why, Lor'
bless you, sir!--"
The old man broke off abruptly as a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.
"Od's life!" exclaimed the hearty voice of Sir Francis Drake. "So 'tis
thy very self, Jacob? Faith, thou'rt passing nimble on thy feet, for all
thy gray hairs. And how fares it with thee, old shipmate? Hast brought
thy fortune home with thee?"
"Fortune, Captain Drake?" returned Hartop, grasping the knight's
proffered hand; "Lor' bless you, sir, I'd none to bring saving only a
handful of precious stones that were stolen from me within an hour's
time of my landing. No, the great fortune that you wot of, and the
_Golden Galleon_ that carried it, now lie at the bottom of the sea--a
wealthy treasure-house that hath claimed tribute from many a good ship
that you and I have known, Master Drake."
Sir Francis nodded.
"True, Jacob, true," said he with a sad smile that seemed to betoken a
world of melancholy memories, "and the last long home of many a goodly
man of Devon that hath been our shipmates! Ay, man, and thou hast lost
it, eh? Why, 'twould have made thee one of the wealthiest men in all
England had it been brought home here to Plymouth. But I had e'en
guessed that some such dire misfortune had befallen thee when I heard
that thou hadst come hither aboard this worm-eaten old craft, the
_Pearl_; for well did I know that friend Hartop must surely have been
put to the hardest of shifts ere he would consent to sail i' the same
vessel as Master Jasper Oglander. And, touching that matter, Jacob, how
came it I pray you, that Jasper got possession of any ship of Sir Walter
Raleigh's?"
"He had chartered her for the homeward voyage," answered Hartop, "and
spent his last groat in victualling her. Master John Evans was our
captain, the command falling to him on the death of your old friend,
Will Marsden."
"'Tis a fact, then, that Will is dead?" cried Drake in a tone of
surprised inquiry, as he gazed across the harbour. Then lowering his
voice and touching Jacob on the shoulder he added: "Prithee, Jacob,
answer me this--had he you wot of aught to do with Will's death?"
"Hush!" cautioned Hartop, suddenly gripping Drake's arm. "Here cometh
Jasper himself!"
Timothy moved aside while Jasper Oglander strode along the causeway with
silent tread, his eyes bent on the ground as if he were absorbed in some
important business that required his deepest thought. As he passed nigh,
however, he raised his eyes and looked out from under his wide sombrero
hat full into Drake's face. His own face became very red, all except the
scar on his cheek, which remained of a dead white colour. He quickly
averted his gaze and passed on without a word, hastening his steps
somewhat.
Sir Francis Drake and Jacob Hartop exchanged meaning glances.
"You see he doth still bear the mark of the cut you gave him across his
craven face," remarked Hartop as he watched Jasper crossing the muddy
street.
A grim smile played for a moment upon Drake's handsome, ruddy
countenance as he answered:
"Ay, marry. And i' faith 'twas a pretty enough cut for him to remember
me by--eh, Jacob? I warrant me he ne'er looks in his looking-glass
without minding of the occasion of it. And yet methinks I might well
have dealt him a severer blow without blame, for he had surely done for
me outright had you not so timely warned me of his evil purpose. Dost
remember, Jacob, how he came stealing aft to my cabin, with the
moonlight glinting on his naked rapier--how he silently pushed open the
door, and then, believing me to be slumbering, prepared to do his work?"
"Right well do I mind it," returned Hartop with a grave shake of the
head. "And greatly have I marvelled ever since how it came that you let
him off so easily. Any man less forgiving than yourself would assuredly
have had him slung up to the yard's-arm for attempting so foul a deed."
Timothy overheard this part of the conversation, but, not wishing to
seem to take interest in other people's affairs, he strode a few steps
away and stood at the edge of the quay looking down upon the untidy and
now deserted deck of the _Pearl_. But what he had heard had nevertheless
given him occasion for reflection.
"So 'twas a falsehood he told when he declared to my father yesterday
that the wound was made by an Indian's arrow," he said to himself as he
leaned against the granite pillar round which one of the ship's thick
ropes was bound. "I might even have guessed as much, for the cut is not
one such as any arrow could make. Certes, I wonder what Master Gilbert
will think of his uncle when he doth learn what manner of man he truly
is! Methinks I was not so far in error, after all, when I said that I
distrusted him, although 'twas no more than mere instinct that gave me
that feeling concerning him. But I now have warrant for my opinion, in
all conscience, and if I make not a huge mistake, some grave trouble
will ere long spring out of his coming to Modbury Manor; for it seemeth
that he doth intend to take up his residence in my lord's family. Ay,
faith, and a mighty pretty gentleman he is to be counted one of so noble
and honourable a household!"
Timothy's anxiety grew deeper and deeper as he continued to review the
situation. It was not the mere discovery that Jasper Oglander was
untruthful which disturbed his peace of mind. It was not even the
thought that there might, after all, be some reason in the accusations
which Jacob Hartop had made against him in the earlier morning. It was
the reflection that, as he had just now learned, this Jasper Oglander
had once treacherously attempted to take the life of Sir Francis Drake.
In common with all English boys at that time Timothy Trollope had a
regard for the great seaman and warrior which amounted to reverent
worship. Sir Francis Drake was to him the noblest hero in all the
world--a hero who could do no wrong, and who had won for England a glory
that could never die; and just in proportion as he honoured and
reverenced Sir Francis, so did he now detest the man who, for whatsoever
cause it may have been, had attempted that hero's life.
Had Timothy been bold enough to follow Jasper Oglander instead of
waiting as he now did upon the busy quay, he might have learned
something more of the man's treachery. But Jasper was not the man to
allow himself to be caught unawares, or to afford any stranger the
slightest chance of prying into the secret matters that he had at
present in hand. Having crossed the street, he walked on for a few yards
looking unconcernedly about him, and then turned in at the front
porchway of the Three Flagons.
Passing through the little parlour of the hostelry, where some seamen
and merchants sat before the fire gossiping and drinking, he mounted the
narrow dark stairs, and, arriving at the second landing, pushed open a
creaking door at the end of the corridor. The room that he entered was a
small, plainly-furnished apartment, in the front gable of the house,
whose side walls sloped upward at a sharp angle, meeting above. A
charcoal fire burned in a brazier in one of the corners, and near it on
the floor a youth lay sound asleep. Jasper went up to him, listened to
his breathing for a few moments, and then strode to the little casement
window and looked down upon the quay where Drake and Hartop still stood
talking together. He watched them until they parted, and when Timothy
Trollope and Hartop had gone their way to the courthouse be glanced once
more at his sleeping companion, drew a chair to the little centre table,
and sat down with his elbow on the table and his head resting on his
hand. Thus he remained for many minutes, ruminating.
"And yet, what should it matter to me whom the old man hath speech
with?" he presently murmured, as if arguing with himself. "He can tell
naught Honest clown that he is, he had not so much as looked at the
letter, for the seal was unbroken. He can, therefore, know naught of its
purport. I warrant me Will Marsden was too cautious a man to venture to
impart his knowledge by word of mouth, and if old Hartop doth not know,
no man else can know. There cannot be a person in England, saving only
myself, who doth even suspect aught of His Spanish Majesty's designs.
The treasure will be brought safely over to Spain, and then with a new
armada well equipped we may snap our fingers at England's Drakes and
Howards and her much-vaunted strength upon the seas. As for Elisabeth
Tudor--we'll burn her at the stake, and a fitting end for the heretic
Jezebel, say I!"
He thrust his hand into the breast of his doublet and drew forth first a
little canvas bag, which he laid before him on the table, and then a
soiled and crumpled sheet of paper, that was folded and refolded into a
small parcel of the size of his own hand. This last he opened out in
front of him. It was closely covered with writing. He glanced down the
page, his eyes following his finger from line to line until he came to a
little below the middle, and here he paused.
"Ay, by my faith, considering thou wert but a poor untutored mariner,
thou hast put the matter exceeding well, Master Will," he muttered
admiringly. "As for thy good counsel, 'twere wiser than most seamen
could give. But 'tis useless now, seeing that Sir Walter Raleigh, for
whom thou didst intend it, can neither receive it nor profit by it."
He stopped and shot a glance in the direction of the man lying before
the fire.
"Art sleeping, Andrea?" he questioned in a low voice. But a deep-drawn
breath was the only answer, and he again went on silently reading.
When he had got to the end of the paper he took it in his fingers and
deliberately tore it into small shreds. He silently carried the
fragments to the fire and cast them upon it, going down on his knees and
blowing the charcoal into a glow until the paper caught alight and was
consumed. Then, returning to the table he took up the little canvas bag,
loosened its strings and poured its contents into the palm of his hand.
Glistening gems they were--emeralds that were clear and green as a
curling ocean wave pierced by a shaft of sunlight; sapphires that were
blue as a Pacific sea that reflects the azure sky; rubies that were as
drops of crimson blood; together with many beauteous pearls and other
precious stones, wonderful to behold. He counted them all one by one,
made a mental estimate of their value, and then, smiling with
satisfaction, returned them to the bag, which he carefully tied up and
as carefully hid away in the breast of his doublet.
Having done this he stepped towards the youth near the fire, and,
bending down, prodded him with his finger.
"Andrea!" he said. "Andrea! Come, wake up!"
Andrea turned over, rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and presently
rose to his feet.
"Sancta Maria!" he muttered, "what a dream I have had! Methought I was
engaged in a deadly duel, and that mine adversary had run me through!"
"Doubtless 'tis the recollection of your struggle with old Hartop,"
remarked Jasper, speaking, as the youth had done, in the Spanish tongue.
"But come, what of the errand I sent you out upon two hours ago? Didst
discover aught of our friends?"
"That I did," replied Andrea, "and more easily than I had expected.
'Twas my father's friend, Don Miguel Fernandes that I met. He hath been
a prisoner here in this town for the past two years, with his companions
to the number of five-and-twenty. Some of the less important of them are
confined in a strong-built house in the centre of the town, and are
under the charge of one Master Richard Drake--a kinsman of the great
Dragon. But some half-dozen Castilian gentlemen--survivors of the
Armada,--who were shipwrecked in Ireland, are of the number, and these,
it seemeth, are permitted to go abroad for six hours every day, having
given their parole."
"And who are these same gentlemen? What are their names?" inquired
Jasper. And when Andrea had named them he said: "A goodly company! By
the mass, a most noble company! Assuredly Spain can ill afford to let
them languish here when they might so easily be at home working for His
Most Christian Majesty and our Holy Mother church!" He touched the
youth's shoulder and added with grave earnestness: "Look you, Andrea,
these gentlemen must escape from England, and that speedily, for there
is no time to be lost."
Andrea looked up surprised and eager.
"Escape!" he repeated. "Ah! but how, señor, how?"
"Nay, I know not how," answered Jasper with a shrug, "but 'tis surely
possible. I only marvel how it happens that they have not themselves
contrived it long since."
"Ay, but they have given their word of honour," returned Andrea; "and
thou knowest as well as I that a Spanish gentleman cannot break his
word."
"Pooh!" cried Jasper. "'Tis no breach of honour to break one's word to
heretics! But leave the matter to me, and, by our Lady, I'll contrive
it, in spite of Drake and all of them." He broke off and glanced towards
the door, which had been opened. A young negro woman stood upon the
threshold. "What want you, Catalina?" he demanded.
She answered him in halting Spanish, saying that the señora her mistress
had heard his voice, and had sent her in to ask him if it was his wish
that she should make herself ready for the journey to Modbury.
"Tell the señora that we start in half an hour's time," said he; and
then he turned to Andrea to further discuss the matter of the Spanish
prisoners of war.