DRUSILLA'S LETTER.
On the morning following the arrival of the ships, boats were sent
shoreward for water and for shingle. The shingle was required for
ballast, the old and polluted ballast having been cast overboard in the
endeavour to clear the vessels of the infection.
Jacob Hartop was in charge of one of the boats from the _Revenge_, and
all through the day he laboured in the heat of the sun with his men,
shovelling shingle into his boat and making trip after trip between the
shore and the ship. When he landed on his second trip he sought out
Gilbert Oglander.
Gilbert looked very different now from the gaily-apparelled lad who had
gone on board the vice-admiral's ship at Plymouth in the early
spring-time. His face was burned to a rich ruddy brown; his clothes were
soiled and ragged, the gilt lace trimmings tarnished; the feathers had
been torn from his cap, which was now but a sorry covering for his
long-grown hair. Like all his companions, he had, for reasons of economy
as much as for those of comfort and convenience, altogether abandoned
his boots, and his bare feet, like his face and hands and arms, were as
sunburnt as those of a Sicilian fisherman. He was kneeling in the shade
of a large spreading date-palm, peeling a ripe orange for Red Bob, when
Jacob Hartop approached him. He glanced up and nodded to the old
buccaneer, smiled in greeting, and proceeded to divide the orange into
liths, handing them one by one to his patient.
Jacob sat down on the soft warm sand and watched the lad for a few
moments in silence.
"Art weary, Jacob?" asked Gilbert, hearing the old man's heavy
breathing.
"Ay, weary of waiting for the Dons," answered Jacob, bending over and
taking up a handful of the sand and letting it slowly stream out again
between his gnarled fingers. Then presently he added: "Thou hast heard
of the coming of the two ships from home,--eh, Master Gilbert?"
"Yes," returned Gilbert, wiping his hot brow with the back of his hand.
"Phew! Would that they had brought a few hogsheads of our Devonshire
cider with them. But that were too much to expect, methinks." He rose to
his feet and stood beside Jacob, with his hands lightly clasped behind
his back, and gazed out upon the sea towards where the little _Revenge_
rode at anchor. "Hast heard aught of their news, Master Hartop?" he
asked.
Hartop shook his head.
"Naught to speak of," he answered. "It seemeth that Sir Francis Drake
hath been summoned to Her Majesty's court, where he is in great favour,
and that Sir Walter Raleigh hath fallen into disgrace; but more than
this I have heard nothing. It may be, however, that thou'lt learn more
from the letter that I bring thee," he added, thrusting his hand into
his doublet. "Sir Richard bade me give it thee, saying as he handed it
unto me, 'Tell Master Oglander that I would willingly have kept the
letter myself, for that by the superscription I do judge it to be a
message from my little sweetheart Drusilla'."
Gilbert fairly leapt at the letter when it was produced.
"It is! It is from Drusilla!" he cried, as he glanced at his name upon
it. "'Twas she indeed that writ it!" Whereupon he pressed the missive to
his lips, glanced at it yet again, and then exclaimed; "Only to think
on't, Jacob! Is't not truly passing strange that my sister had this in
her hand--ay, and haply kissed it as I do now--scarcely a month ago!"
He was about to break the seal, but he forebore. "Nay," he said, "I will
not read it now. Let me wait until the joy of receiving it hath abated;"
and kissing it again he thrust it securely under his belt and went once
more among the sick men, attending to their wants, and giving them such
cheer as they had not known for many a day.
In the afternoon, when most of the invalids were asleep, Gilbert escaped
from the beach and climbed the high bank of land to the level ground
above, where the olive-trees grew. He perched himself upon one of the
lower boughs of one of the largest of the trees, and, resting his back
against the main trunk, took out his letter.
It had been written, not at Modbury Manor but at Willoughby Grange, the
Devonshire seat of Sir Lester Willoughby. Gilbert read it slowly,
dwelling on each word with fond interest.
Writ at Willoughby Grange, in the County of
Devon, the 5th day of August, 1591.
_I know not, dear my brother Gilbert, if this letter will ever
reach thee, but Master Christopher Pym hath but now ridden hence
from Plymouth to tell me that the good ship "Barbara Jane" is being
fitted to sail to the Western Isles with victuals for the Lord
Thomas Howard his fleet, and to bid me write to thee in the hope
that if thou art alive (as I pray God thou be) thou shall know
hereby the things which have befallen us in thy so long absence,
and of how Jasper Oglander hath proved himself to be a most
iniquitous person with no good in him, who hath been secretly
working to the ruination of our home and family, to the uttermost
grief and distress of our saintly mother._
_These things I must confide to thee, dear Gilbert, even in the
order in which they happened; for 'tis meet that thou shouldst know
them at the soonest possible time, so that thou mayest come back to
us, if haply thou canst, and aid us in our tribulation. Yet even
now, as I do indite these lines, I can scarce put the matter in its
true order, so much confused am I in mind concerning all that hath
disturbed our happiness, and so greatly do I fear (despite Master
Pym's assurances) that thou art indeed and in truth dead and gone,
as Jasper hath so positively averred. Of this terrible report of
thine untimely death, we have no assurance either of truth or of
disproof, and can only devoutly pray (as we do daily and nightly
pray) that 'tis yet another of Jasper Oglander's evil and wicked
falsehoods, set forth to gain his own advantage and advancement.
But alas! I much fear me that I shall never, never see thee again,
and that thou art, as the letter said, no more in this world._
_We were concerned (as thou knowest) about the strange absence of
cousin Philip. It was said by his father that he had gone on
horseback upon a journey of pleasure into the country. But this
report hath been proved false, utterly false. Philip is even at
this present time abroad in Spain, working in league with our
country's enemies. We learnt it at the time of our dear
grandfather's sudden death--_
Gilbert started back in amazement as he read these last words, almost
falling from his seat on the olive-tree.
"Grandfather's death!" he cried aghast, dropping the letter on his lap.
And then, as in a flash, his thoughts sped back to the time of his
leaving Plymouth and the sight of the flag flying at half-mast on the
towers of Modbury Manor. "_Grandfather's sudden death!_" he repeated,
and for many minutes his brain seemed to be stunned by the news. His
tear-filled eyes wandered eastward across the broad blue sea. Far away
in the mid-distance between him and the clear horizon he saw, almost
unconsciously, a little ship ploughing her way under full sail onward in
the direction of Flores. At any other time and in a different mood the
sight of that ship, where ships were so seldom to be seen, would have
aroused in him a keen concern. But now he gave it only an instant's
thought, and turned to continue the reading of Drusilla's letter.
_We learnt it at the time of our dear grandfather's sudden death,
which befell within an hour after thou hadst gone off to join the
"Revenge". A messenger had ridden in hot haste to the manor,
bearing a letter for grandfather. What the letter contained and
whence it had come we knew not; nor could it be found anywhere in
the library. But later, when, at the instance of our mother, Jasper
took horse for Plymouth to warn thee of what had happened and bring
thee back if there were yet time, Christopher Pym came within to
our mother and handed her the letter, saying that he had discovered
it at the spot where uncle Jasper had mounted his horse, and
declaring that the letter had fallen from Jasper's belt. The letter
was from Master Peter Trollope in Plymouth, and it told that both
Jasper and Philip Oglander were traitors; that it was they who had
contrived the escape of the Spanish prisoners of war, and that
Philip Oglander had sailed with them for Spain in the ship "Pearl",
which Jasper had purchased, from Sir Walter Raleigh out of money
stolen, on the night ye wot of, from poor old Jacob Hartop._
_Master Pym hath always held to the belief that 'twas the shock of
reading this letter that brought about my Lord Champernoun's
death._
_Greatly were we all concerned when we heard that the "Revenge" had
set sail, and that thou hadst departed in her. 'Tis hard to
believe, but Master Pym doth continually aver that Jasper (although
'tis certain he had ample time to warn thee) purposely held back
from seeing thee or telling thee of my lord's death, desiring that
thou shouldst quit the country in ignorance and run the risk of
death by battle or storm, rather than that thou shouldst return
home to thy rightful heritage, and so deprive him of his heart's
desire. For it is now manifest to us all that Jasper, even from the
first moment of his landing in Plymouth, hath been scheming and
planning how he might cheat thee of thy rights, and become himself
the Baron Champernoun and the owner of Modbury Manor and all the
family estates._
_And he hath now gained his wish: whether honestly or not can only
depend upon whether thou art still alive. At the first he affected
to sorrow over thine absence, speaking of thee as "Lord
Champernoun" and "his lordship, my dear nephew", and the like. But
on a day in the month of May he returned from Plymouth town in
great haste and seeming grief, and when his wife, Donna Lela,
besought him to tell her wherefore he wore a so doleful
countenance, he produced a letter. "'Tis for this that I mourn,"
said he with a great sorrowful sigh, as he handed the letter to our
mother. "'Tis a letter newly come from Sir Richard Grenville," said
he. "Read it, good my sister, and God give thee strength to bear
its terrible news." And ere mother had read beyond a dozen of the
written lines she uttered a scream that might have been heard in
the buttery, and fell back in her chair crying, "Oh! my son, my
dear son! dead! dead! dead!" And Christopher Pym, seeing that her
eyes were flooded with tears ere yet she would read the letter to
its end, rose from the supper-table where we all were, and, said
he, "I pray you, my lady, let me read you the letter;" and she gave
it unto him, and he read it aloud so that all could hear. It told
of a great storm that my lord Thomas Howard his fleet had
encountered in the Bay of Biscay, and of how the "Revenge" in
particular had been sorely buffeted by the mountainous waves, and
of how one great wave, sweeping over her decks, had carried off
many gallant men, and among them Master Gilbert Oglander._
_When Master Pym came to the end and read the name of Richard
Grenville, his eyes darted across the table to Jasper Oglander, and
the look that Jasper returned to him was dreadful to behold. Master
Pym with no more ado went round to where Jasper sat and touched him
on the shoulder, and presently Jasper rose and they quitted the
room together. We knew not what their intent might be, but 'tis
certain that they quarrelled, and 'tis certain that from that day
to this good Master Christopher Pym hath never set foot in Modbury
Manor._
_Now it was not many days thereafter that Jasper began to show by
his bearing the thing that was in his mind. He bade all the
servants and household address him and speak of him as "my lord",
he signed his letters "Champernoun", and if Parliament had been in
session, I doubt not that he would have hastened to take his seat
in the House of Peers. He gave orders for many changes in the
manor-house, he commanded the foresters to hew down our best and
bravest oak-trees in the park, and he sold the timber to the
shipwrights with which to build ships withal. But more unhappy than
all else was his overbearing manner towards our mother. He treated
her as though she had no right to remain under the roof, and his
Papist wife, whom (as Master Pym hath told me) he had brought over
from some hovel in Honduras, was thrust into our mother's place as
Lady Champernoun._
_Thou canst well understand, dear my brother, how grieved was our
mother at all this. She lingered not longer in the place than was
barely needful to gather her own personal possessions together, and
then, carrying me with her, she set off to Willoughby Grange, where
we now are._
_'Twas but this morning (as I have said) that Master Christopher
Pym came hither with word that the "Barbara Jane" is about to sail
for the Azores. He hath spoken long and earnestly with our mother,
and she is so sorely distressed that she hath bidden me do what she
had willingly have done with her own hand--write to thee, in the
hope that thou art still alive, and tell thee of these things. And
what hath given her a strong hope is, that Christopher Pym doth now
positively declare that the letter which Jasper averred had come to
him from Sir Richard Grenville came not from Sir Richard at all,
but was a base and wilful forgery._
_Much more have I to tell thee. But I have already spent many hours
over this long letter, which hath yet to be read by our mother and
writ out again by Master Pym, who will set it forth in more seemly
English than I, an ignorant girl, can command._
_Farewell, dear my brother. The Lord bless thee and bring thee home
in safety, and govern thee with His grace and make thee a good
servant to our Queen and country. Thy loving sister, so long as
thou livest in the fear of God_,
_DRUSILLA OGLANDER_.
Grasping the letter in his hand, Gilbert bent forward with his head upon
his knees and wept.
Long, long he remained thus, now weeping in sorrow for his mother, now
yearning to be back in England, now fretting over the fate that kept
him, as it were, a prisoner on foreign shores. Oh, why were the Spanish
so long in coming? Why did they delay?
Suddenly he was aroused by hearing strange sounds: the tinkling of
distant bells, the shrill, penetrating whistle of boatswains' pipes, and
then the loud report of a cannon. He stood up and glanced through the
foliage down at the fleet, and there he saw that the ships were in
unwonted commotion. Boats were passing to and fro along the line. Near
to the admiral's flag-ship there was a strange vessel with fresh white
sails that had been newly furled. It was the same ship that he had
already seen making her way across the sea. He turned and glanced over
the water to make sure that this was so, for he could not well believe
that she had come so quickly, or that he had remained inactive so long,
brooding over the letter. Yes, it was indeed the same ship.
But what was this that he now saw upon the far horizon? He strained his
eyes in eagerness. Away in the east, like a string of threaded beads
upon the line of the horizon, there appeared a whole armada of
ships--ten, twenty, forty, nay, more even than this. And they were
sailing westward towards Flores--westward from Spain!