I SAIL FOR VIRGINIA
It was near midnight when my door opened again. I was still in the
chair by the table, where I had seated myself when I had left them
outside, staring vacantly at the place opposite, where she had sat so
lately. Only a few brief minutes before her dress had pressed yonder
chair; her elbow had touched the table; it was still wet with her tears.
"Bobby," I said, arising as he entered, "I need not say that I am glad
to see thee; it seems like ages since we roamed London together."
He seated himself opposite and looked at me. I saw no change in him
since we had been together twenty-two months before, save perhaps a few
wrinkles about his forehead, otherwise he was still the same frank,
sincere friend.
"Thou hast changed," he said at length.
"I know it," I replied, "but thou hast heard of my adventures."
"Yes," he answered, with a ringing laugh. "The Lady Margaret told me of
them. I marvel not that the Queen did not believe thee--it is almost
beyond belief."
"Bobby," I said, "often have I thought of thee in the long nights and
wished to see thy face. I had not thought sometimes to see it again."
He looked up at me, his eyes moist.
"I have searched far and wide for thee, everywhere that I could think
of, but it was as though thou hadst been caught up in the clouds;
nowhere could I find a trace of thy whereabouts. I had almost given up
hope."
"Dunraven was at the bottom of it," I said. "He thought that, with
me out of the way, he could win Margaret, but I thank Heaven that
his plans have miscarried, and that she has bestowed her love upon a
noble gentleman of worth and merit. Old friend, this is no time for
concealment or coldness between us--from the bottom of my heart I
congratulate thee, and wish thee joy!" and I held out my hand to him.
He took it, and squeezed it between both of his own.
"Thank thee, old man," he said huskily. "None but a heart of true steel
such as thine could bear this grief so nobly. But I fear that thou art
mistaken, for never has the lady given me any cause to think that she
regarded me as more than a friend; thou hast misinterpreted her words."
"No," I answered, "she loves thee; she as good as told me that. What
didst thou expect--that the lady would propose to thee?" I smiled at
him. "Pluck up courage, good sir, make one brave charge, and the field
is thine."
"I would I thought so," he said doubtfully.
"But," I said, "'faint heart ne'er won fair lady.' Put on a bold front,
I have never found thee timid; corner her and force her to listen to
thee."
He looked at me, his face flushed and happy.
"And thou dost think of me with thyself at death's door!" he cried,
"while I sit here like a mummy. Listen--old Sir Henry DeGray thinks
much of thee, as thou dost know, and he has consented to aid us in
thy escape. The plan is this. After I have left, dost thou wait about
fifteen minutes, then beat upon the door. The man who will open it is
drunk. Knock him down, take his keys away from him, and put him in thy
place; then don his cloak and walk boldly out into the hall. Sir Henry
awaits thee there. Say nothing, but follow him to the door. I shall be
outside and will guide thee to where Governor White lies at anchor in
the Thames, ready to set sail for the golden Virginia. Once over there
thou art safe, and canst remain until the coast is clear here; then
thou canst return to England."
"'Tis a bold scheme, Bobby, and I thank thee. But why should I go? Life
holds naught so precious for me, that I should cling to it so strongly.
There is nothing for me beyond the seas, in that strange and barbarous
land, with its painted savages and fierce beasts of prey. What could I
do, should I reach it alive? No, leave me to my fate--and go!"
"Thomas!" he cried, "if thou carest not for thyself, think of thy
friends. Spare me this last blow--spare me, or I shall go mad! Think
of Margaret, and for her sake go," and he stretched out his hands
imploringly to me.
Silence reigned in the little room. I was thinking of her; what would
she care? Why should I go out into a strange and unknown land to begin
life anew, with no one besides me save only the Indians and wild
beasts; to drag out a few miserable years of pain and sorrow. A life
such as this was not worth the effort--no, the game was not worth the
candle.
"Thou dost not know what thou askest of me," I replied finally. "What
would a life such as this mean? It would be a living death. Better one
quick leap and then forgetfulness and oblivion. As for Margaret, why
should she care?"
"Thou art mad," he replied, "that thou talkest thus. It will be only
for a few months among new scenes and men; 'twill be a diversion for
thy mind. As for my lady, thou hast no right to speak thus. Thou dost
not know how much she cares; in truth, as I led her home she wept as
though her heart would break, and she implored me to save thee as I
left her."
"And so thou dost beseech me to leave England, so that I may be out of
the way," I answered bitterly.
"Thomas!" he cried reproachfully, "I have not deserved this at thy
hands--as God is my witness, I have not. I have ever loved thee as a
brother, and there has been no time when I would not have given my life
to have saved thee, and yet thou reproachest me thus. Truly those we
love most are the first to turn their backs upon us."
"Forgive me, Bobby!" I cried penitently. "My grief has almost turned my
brain, and I know not what I say. I did not mean to offend thee, and
would beg thy pardon."
"Then go," he answered, pacing the floor in his excitement. "A few more
minutes and the watch will be changed, and 'twill be too late. Come!
for my sake if thou lovest me; for Margaret's sake; for the sake of thy
old friends, whom thou didst once know and cherish." And he turned to
me with a look of entreaty upon his face.
"If thou dost put it thus," I said, "I will go. It matters little
where I drag out the few remaining years left to me. For thy sake I
will go."
"Good!" he cried joyfully. "Remember what I have told thee. I will wait
for thee on the outside. I pray that our plans may not miscarry. Be
brave, and fear naught. I must hurry," and he opened the door and left
me.
I could hear the sound of his feet upon the floor as he walked rapidly
down the hall. I waited in silence a few minutes, then with both fists
I pounded upon the door, and kicked upon it with my heels.
An unsteady voice answered me from the outside:
"What-cher-want? Can't-yer-be-quiet?" and then a hiccough.
"Open!" I cried. "I have a sovereign for thee if thou wilt do an errand
for me."
I heard him fumbling with the lock, and then opening the door, he
thrust his head inside, and gazed carefully around the room from the
ceiling to the floor, until finally his eyes fell upon me, as I stood
within three feet of him.
"What-yer-want?" he muttered again. "Can't-yer-lemme-sleep?" And a
threatening look came over his drunken face.
"I have a dozen bright gold pieces for thee," I said. "Come inside and
thou shalt have them," and I thrust my hand into my pocket, as though
to draw them out.
He lurched inside and towards me, his hand outstretched.
"Lemme-have-em," he cried in tipsy glee.
With a bound I caught him by the throat and threw him upon the floor.
With his own doublet and some of the bedding I swiftly and quietly
bound him hand and foot and gagged him. Then picking up his helpless
body in my arms, I threw it upon the bed as though he were a bundle of
goods.
"Listen," I said in a low voice, my face within a foot of his own;
"make but one sound or attempt to escape, and I will kill thee, for I
am just outside."
Unbuckling the belt around his waist, in which hung a long dagger, I
fastened it around my own, and picking up his dark cloak and steel cap,
which had fallen upon the floor when I sprang upon him, I prepared to
take my departure.
One last look at the bound man upon the bed--yes, he was secure. A
sudden thought struck me: where were the keys? There were only a few in
his doublet, but they were small ones, evidently to the doors of the
cells. Nowhere could I find those which belonged to the great front
door, nor to the doors which led into each corridor. Well I must trust
to chance for my salvation; I would make the attempt, I could do no
more.
Crossing over to the door which stood slightly ajar, the key still
in the lock, I pushed it open and stood in the corridor, which was
deserted. I turned the key in the lock, thrust it into my pocket, and
with the cloak around my face, strode down the hall. The long passage
seemed to re-echo my footsteps as though I trod with feet of mail.
It seemed to me that all must know a prisoner was escaping. The very
walls seemed to cry "Stop!--stop!" to me as I trod by; my heart beat as
though it would burst. The jailer must hear its muffled beat--but no
sound greeted my ears, as I kept steadily on my way and stood at the
first heavy door that barred my passage.
My feeling of terror had left me, and I felt a strange exultation. If
I should escape from this black hole, I would be the first for many a
year. Of the many who entered its gloomy portals, few ever left them
alive again. They were doomed to pass their days in some dark dungeon
within its recesses, shut off from the world and all it contained.
I beat with the hilt of my dagger upon the iron-studded panel.
"Open!" I cried.
The growl of old Sir Henry answered me.
"Is it thee, Jack? Thou scoundrel! Thou shouldst have been here an hour
ago. What kept thee so long, thou dog? I will lash that lazy hide of
thine," and grumbling to himself he unlocked the door. "Why stand like
a struck boar?" he shouted at me. "Thou fool! hast thou all night to
stand there?"
And with a curse he locked the door again, and strode away with me
at his heels, leaving the man who had stood by him during his brief
monologue staring after us as we left him. He walked at a rapid gait,
I at his heels, down the long passage, speaking never a word. We
passed several guards lounging in the hall, who straightened up, all
attention, as we neared them. Evidently the old soldier kept his men
under strict discipline.
As we neared a little knot of guards, he cried out:
"Come on, thou fool, I will teach thee to sleep at thy post again! I
will tear the very flesh from thy bones!" And with that he unlocked the
door which barred our passage, and passing the man who stood beside it,
he kept on down the hall. I could hear the men on the other side mutter
to themselves as it swung to, but what they said I could not catch.
We were alone now in the hall, no one was in sight of us. Peering
around him the old warrior halted a moment, and turning to me, one eye
closed, he winked; then with a growl, he resumed his journey. Several
more doors we unlocked and passed through, meeting a dozen little
groups of men in the hall, but Sir Henry said not a word, only as we
neared them, he would curse me for my tardiness and laziness, and swear
to tear me limb from limb.
With my cap pulled down over my face and wrapped in the great dark
cloak, I followed him, my head bowed as though in dejection and fear;
and so we traversed the great building, until finally we stood at the
huge door that led out into the open air, where he halted. There was no
one there, and unbolting it, he motioned for me to walk out.
"Forget not to deliver the message that I gave thee to Lord Pendleton,"
he said, in a loud tone of voice, for the benefit of any who might
chance to see us, "thou dog, and waste no time about it, or I will
trounce thee well with my stirrup--begone!" And with a kindly look upon
his old face, he pushed the door to, and I heard the chain rattle as he
secured it.
I stood alone in the low courtyard of the prison, the cold night air
blowing against my face. Carefully I picked my way over the uneven
stones, with which the yard was paved, until I reached the gate which
led into the street. It was unlocked, and opening it, I stood once more
upon the street of London--free.
A man started from the shadow of the wall, and came toward me, his
head muffled in his cloak; as he neared me, I saw that it was Bobby.
"I had almost given thee up," he whispered. "But come, we have no time
to lose. It will be only a few hours at the most until they discover
thy escape, and they will search all England thoroughly for thee." And
catching me by the arm, he hurried me down the street.
"Where art thou going?" I asked in a low tone of voice.
"To the river," he answered. "I have a fleet boat there, and we will
row down to where Governor White lays. He has consented to conceal
thee for a day or two, until he gets out of England, and then thou
canst reveal thyself, for it will not matter then. He is under great
obligations to Raleigh, and I persuaded Sir Walter to ask this of him;
it was the only way we could save thee, and White would cut off his
right hand for Walter."
Down the dark streets we hurried; I could hear Bobby panting as he
rushed along. This was violent exercise for one who had lived an idle
life for years. Every moment I expected the dark tower behind us to
twinkle with lights and ring with shouts, as they discovered my flight
and made haste to pursue me. But no sound came from its black depths;
it lay still and gloomy. We passed only a few belated nighthawks and
wayfarers, as they staggered home after a night of revelry, and they
endeavored to give us a wide berth, for we were two able-bodied men,
and they cared not to tackle us.
Finally, turning into a dark lane, we stood by the river's brink.
Bobby, putting his fingers to his lips, gave a shrill whistle; an
answer floated back from the dark water, and I heard the sound of oars
as a boat came forward to us.
"It is manned by four tenants from my estate near London," he
whispered. "True as steel they are; rather would they be cut to pieces,
than to say one word of to-night's work."
The boat swept up to the dark wharf where we stood.
"Careful," he muttered, "watch where thou dost step. Do thou go first,"
and he motioned towards the boat.
I stepped down into it and he followed. Without a sound the men pushed
off, and bent to their work with a will; the little boat hummed
through the water. I could not see the faces around me, only four dark
forms, pulling with all their strength upon the oars. They rowed on in
silence, uttering no sound as we passed through the twinkling lights
where the vessels lay at anchor, rising and falling with the tide.
Behind us stretched the city; before us the silent river, and I knew
not what beyond that. God only knew when I would see England again; an
exile, with only one true friend beside me, I was hurrying from London
like a thief, from the land where I had been born and reared. Engaged
with such thoughts as these, I sat silent and moody; beside me Bobby,
his face upon his hand, sat as preoccupied as myself. We had left the
ships now, and were pulling down the river, with no glimmer of light in
sight.
"Where art thou going, Bobby?" I asked. "Thou hast left all of the
ships behind thee, and art making down the river."
He roused himself and looked around him.
"Where art thou going, Bill?" he cried. "This is not where the vessel
lies," and he bent forward to peer at the silent figure near him. As he
did so he sprang to his feet, his sword in hand. "What have we here?"
he shouted in alarm. "This is not my boat!"
I was just about to rise beside him, dagger in hand, when from the
stern of the boat, among some oilskins and packages, a man arose. At
the first sound of his voice I was up, for I knew the curt, ironical
tones.
"My dear gentlemen, pray be seated," he said. "You are my guests, and
I beg that you be not alarmed; I will watch over you well." With a
mocking smile upon his face, stood Lord Dunraven.
The men had dropped their oars and sprang up to overpower us. As one
hardy mariner caught my left arm with both hands, I raised my dagger
and plunged it full into his brawny breast; with a groan he rolled
down at my feet, knocking down his companion in his fall. Bobby was
struggling in the grasp of the other two men behind me; Dunraven was
coming at me with drawn sword--there was no time to be lost. The seaman
who had been knocked down struggled to his knees. I raised my foot, and
kicked him full in the face, with all my might. With a cry of pain he
fell back, and I, losing my balance, sprawled over him as he went down.
I heard Dunraven's sword whistle over my head as I fell; it would have
caught me full in the throat had I not done so. He stumbled for an
instant as, carried away by the force of his blow, he sought to recover
himself. Leaning forward I caught him by both knees, and rising to my
feet, I swung him high over my head a moment, and then cast him far out
into the water, as though he had been a log.
The two men had Bobby down in the bottom of the boat, and were tying
him securely with ropes, he struggling to release himself. Catching
up a cutlass, I sprang forward, and cut at the head of one of them
who had turned to meet me. The blade caught him full on the neck, and
almost severed his head from his body. He stood erect for an instant,
the blood spurting from his throat, and then with an awful yell he went
down, both hands clutching blindly at the bottom of the boat in his
agony. The other rogue waited for no more, but in an instant was over
the side of the boat, and I heard him as with vigorous strokes he swam
down the stream.
"Thomas, for Heaven's sake, untie these cords from my arms!" Bobby
cried, at my feet. "These rogues have bound me as though they thought I
would fall asunder; the cords cut into my flesh like a sword."
Bending over him, I cut the rope with my bloody cutlass, and helped him
to his feet.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"God only knows," he answered, "I do not. We will miss the ship!" he
cried, wringing his hands. "What a fool I was, not to be sure that I
had gotten on board the right boat. Dunraven must have caught wind of
my scheme somewhere, and laid this trap into which I walked like an
idiot."
"Thou couldst not know it," I answered. "Do not blame thyself. Yonder
goes an oar!" And one of the oars, loosed from the socket by the
struggle, floated out into the stream. I jumped forward and caught
another as it was about to follow suit. "Catch yonder one, Bobby! I
shouted, and quickly he did so. Only two remained out of four; one of
the others had floated away, probably when the seamen had loosened it.
"Where dost thou say we are?" I asked. "We had best turn back upstream,
and make for the ship."
He was standing up, and peered around him.
"I know yonder house," he said finally, pointing out to where a great
many-gabled house gleamed far away in the darkness. "'Tis Sir John
Norton's house, and it is five miles from where Governor White lies,
and the tide is against us; we shall never make it before morning," and
he groaned hopelessly.
"Do not despair," I said cheerfully. "Take one of the oars and we will
have a try at it. We will go under if we must, but first we will make a
game fight," and seating myself, I began to tug at one of the oars.
Years ago I could row, but I had grown older now, and rowing was more
difficult to me. Slowly we turned, and began to pull against the tide;
it was about three o'clock in the morning, and we had only two hours
at the most to make the ship, for she sailed at five o'clock, as Bobby
informed me. He, tugging opposite, cursed his luck, as with a groan he
bent to his task. Of Dunraven and the sailor we heard nothing. They had
disappeared, and the dark river told no secrets.
I shall never forget that night's work, as with aching back I pulled
for my life, and not only mine, but for Bobby's as well; for to my
repeated offers to put him on shore, and let him strike through the
country for his estates, he turned a deaf ear.
"Leave thee to thy death?" he cried indignantly. "No, I have not sunk
so low as that. Thou couldst never make the ship alone, and to remain
in England is but to invite certain discovery. They will scour all
England to find thee, and there is no place that thou couldst remain in
safety. No--we will both sink or swim together."
My hands, unaccustomed to the hard work, had blistered, and every
stroke gave me pain. The sweat stood in large drops upon my forehead,
and ran down my face; my back seemed as though it would break, as I
bent to the work; my breath came in quick gasps. Two miles gone--and
it was four o'clock. I stopped for an instant, and tearing off the
sleeves of my doublet, I handed one in silence to Bobby, and wrapping
the other about the handle of my oar, resumed my task.
It was only a question of a few moments with me; we were crawling
slowly upstream, the tide beating against us as though in league with
Dunraven, and eager to hold us back. It seemed to me that I had rowed
always; that I had done naught from my birth but tug with bleeding
hands at some heavy oar against the belated tide.
My mind was a blank; I had forgotten all else, save that we must pull
three miles in one short hour, or Bobby was lost. In all broad England
there was no spot where he could safely lay his head, for the Queen
would punish with iron hand one who dared to beard her in her palace,
and to pluck from the very gallows a felon whom she had doomed to die.
And so I pulled as though an empire hung upon my efforts. How much
longer would this last? Half-past four, and we had pulled a little over
a mile, and must rest. Fastening my oar, I threw myself flat upon the
bottom of the boat. Bobby fell beside me, and with throbbing hearts we
lay there.
Every breath that I drew gave me pain; a mist came before my eyes; the
world seemed to whirl and circle in a mad dance about me; the river
sucking at the boat seemed to my fevered brain to be a thing of life;
the dark trees upon the banks seemed to beckon to me, as though a
company of cloaked monks.
Afar down the east, a light streak was beginning to broaden, the sun
was about to rise. Aboard the vessel all was bustle and hurry; they
were preparing to hoist sail, and at the thought I tottered to my feet,
and bent once more to the oar. By hard work we made another mile; it
was five o'clock now, and we were still some distance from the ship.
There was no use to work longer.
"Bobby," I muttered weakly, "the ship must have gone--let us rest."
"No," he answered, "pull! It will wait for us a moment--pull, man! we
may yet reach it," and he redoubled his efforts.
I bent again to the oar, though it seemed as though my exhausted arms
would wrench from their sockets at each stroke. Around me danced the
river; the roar of the ocean was in my ears; little specks of fire
glimmered in front of my very eyes. How long was a mile?--a mile--a
mile--I had forgotten why we rowed so madly, I only knew that something
terrible would befall us did we not reach a place, I knew not where, by
five o'clock.
Bobby was speaking:
"It is past five o'clock now, and we are nearly there."
"Yes, nearly there," I repeated vacantly; "nearly there." Where was
"there"?
The sun was rising like a ball of flame; red and angry, he was
preparing for another day, and he scowled down upon us with threatening
look, as though we had wronged him, and he but waited to avenge
himself. We turned a curve in the river--there, nearly a quarter of a
mile away, by the side of a dock lay a great vessel, her decks alive
with men. She was about to spread her white sails, and fly out into the
trackless ocean; even as we looked, she came slowly around, and, the
wind filling her great sheets of canvass, began to move slowly through
the water.
Bobby dropped the oar and sprang to his feet.
"It is our ship!" he cried.
And then he raised his voice and shouted with all his might, I joining
him, but in vain; we were too weak from our long efforts, and our
voices could not reach the ship. I waved my doublet above my head, and
Bobby, putting his cap upon his oar, moved it backward and forward,
hoping to attract their attention. But no sound came from the vessel,
steadily she kept on her way to join her two consorts at the mouth of
the river.
The vessel lay below the city, at an old deserted wharf, probably
waiting for us, and her going attracted little attention; only a
small crowd of people stood upon the wharf, idlers and friends of the
adventurers, who had come to say good-by. My companion had thrown
himself upon his face on the bottom of the boat and was sobbing like a
child. I listlessly kept up my efforts to attract the attention of the
vessel, for, though I had despaired of succeeding, I would not desist
until it had passed out of sight.
The great ship keeled as she came round to the wind, and lay
motionless. A culverin boomed, and lo! a boat put out from her and made
for us where we lay. I gave a shout of joy--we were saved.
Vane looked up at my cry of astonishment.
"What is it?" he asked wonderingly. "Art thou mad?"
"We are saved, Bobby!" I cried, and I caught him in my arms and hugged
him in delight. "Saved!"
He had arisen, calm again.
"We had best toss these rogues overboard," he said; "their bodies might
excite suspicion. We can get into their boat, and turn this adrift;
perhaps it will serve to throw our pursuers off the track."
And with my help, he tossed the dead bodies into the river. Two of them
were dead, cold, and stiff; the third, whom I had kicked in the face,
lay as though dead. We had no time to examine him; alive or dead he
must go into the stream, for it would mean certain death to Sir Robert
to leave this fellow behind, to tell of his share in my escape. So we
cast him overboard.
The boat had neared us; a spare, gaunt man, wrapped in a dark cloak,
with a worn, patient face, stood erect in the stern, and as he came in
speaking distance, shouted to Bobby.
"What means this, Captain? I expected thy brother an hour ago, and have
lost time waiting for you."
"I could not help it, Governor," he answered. "We were set upon by
robbers down the river, our men were murdered, and it was only after
a hard fight that we saved our lives. We rowed for two hours and more
against the stream, as though the furies were at our heels, to catch
thy ship."
He said nothing as the boat reached us, and we clambered aboard.
"It is Governor White," Bobby whispered in my ear.
"What wouldst thou have me do with thy boat?" White asked, eying us
closely.
"Turn it adrift," I answered. "It has done its work." And leaving it, we
pulled towards the spot where the ship lay awaiting us.
"You must have had a time of it," he said. "Your faces are dripping
with sweat, and the blood is all over your doublets."
"Such a fight as I have never made before," Bobby replied. "I had given
up hope several times, but still we kept on. How camest thou to wait
for us?"
"I suspected something of the sort," he answered quietly, "and so we
waited for a while. But I had given you up in despair and was about to
sail, when one of the sailors spied your boat, and called my attention
to it. I knew at once who it was, and so came back to pick you up. But
pull, men!" he cried--"pull! We are much delayed as it is."
He was plainly worried, and I did not blame him. All London doubtless
knew of my escape by now, and they were scouring the country high and
low for me; at any moment we might come upon a party of the searchers,
and then good-by for White and his voyage. It was light now, and we
could be plainly seen from the banks of the river; the bustle and hum
of the city came dimly to our ears. They would probably search the ship
before they would let it sail--no wonder White's cheeks were pale.
A few moments, and we neared the ship; a crowd of eager faces peered
down at us, sailors and adventurers, men of all sorts and conditions,
they jostled and pushed each other, and the hum of their voices reached
my ears, as, assisted by two sailors, I stumbled up the ladder, and
down into the cabin, followed by Vane. Concealment now was useless, our
only safety was in flight. Should our ship be stopped, all on board
knew of our arrival, and discovery was inevitable.
White closed the door behind him.
"I am risking much for Walter Raleigh," he said. "We must take to our
heels now, and evade them as best we can. Do you both stay below, until
I send for you. I will set Sir Robert off at some point further down
the river, where he can reach his place without suspicion," and with
that he hurried out of the room.
The wind had freshened, and with all her sails set, the vessel flew
through the water. We were passing among the shipping docks now, for I
could see the sides of the vessels from the little open window where I
stood.
A hoarse shout struck my ears--"Stop! in the name of the Queen, I
command thee!"
"What is it?" I could hear White answer. "We are delayed, and are
making all speed to join our consorts--we cannot stop."
"Thou dost go on at thy peril!" the voice roared. "A prisoner doomed to
die has escaped from the Tower, and we are to search each vessel. It
will take but a moment, and my orders are to fire on every ship that
disobeys. Wait but a moment."
White shouted back: "I will go on a little further down the river, and
stop at yonder wharf."
"No!" shouted the man, his voice becoming fainter, for the ship was
staggering through the water with the speed of a race horse. "Stop! or
I shall fire on thee."
White did not answer, only I heard him urge the men to put on more
sail. A moment--then a dull roar, and the culverins crashed, as
somewhere behind us they fired. A scornful laugh from the deck.
Evidently we were out of range now. Then I heard a cry from above: "The
man-of-war is making sail for us!" And there was the sound of hurried
steps, as the men ran to and fro upon the deck in fear. If we could
only keep this up but for a few minutes, we would soon be upon the high
seas. The wind was blowing a very gale, as with every stitch of sail
set, the vessel plunged through the water. It was broad daylight now,
and every moment was golden to us; at any instant a vessel might block
our way, and all would be lost.
Four long hours passed; several merchant vessels had gone by on their
way to London, their crews pointing at us and staring in wonder as we
dashed on at full speed. One or two had attempted to hail us, but we
had paid no attention to their repeated shouts, and had kept steadily
down the river. Our pursuer had fallen far behind us and was out of
sight; only the rippling Thames lay before us.
A man knocked upon the door and informed us that Governor White awaited
us on deck, and we followed him to where White stood, a little apart
from his men.
"We have almost reached the ocean," he said as we approached him. "If
Sir Robert desires to land, he had best do so now; but say the word
and thou shalt go ashore where thou dost wish."
Bobby turned to me.
"I have half a mind to go with thee, Thomas," he said in a low voice.
"It would be a change of scene, and I would be company for thee in that
strange land."
I shook my head.
"No," I replied, "thy duty is here; there is enough for thy hand to do,
without wandering out into an unknown wilderness. Thou must watch over
Margaret," I whispered in his ear. "What will she do here at the mercy
of Dunraven? No, thou must remain. We have come to the parting of the
ways--thine lies in England; mine in distant Virginia. We will walk as
best we may, nor murmur though the task seem hard, and dark the way
before us. Thy boat awaits thee--we must part."
"Thomas," he replied, "I cannot see thee go thus, for I feel that it
will be years before I see thy face again, if ever. That land swarms
with hidden dangers and I cannot see thee go alone."
"It is best," I answered. "Thou couldst do no good. Tell the Lady
Margaret that I remain as ever her humble servant--and may the good
angels watch over you both."
White came forward. "I grieve to interrupt your parting, gentlemen,"
he said, "but time is precious, for I know not what moment our pursuer
will round yonder bend, and cut off our retreat."
"Thou art right," I answered, wringing Bobby by the hand once more.
"Over with thee, old friend, and remember all I have said to thee. Keep
up a brave heart, and all will be well."
He made no answer; perhaps some thought of what I had been to him
choked his voice; he only clasped my hand tighter for an instant.
"Would that I could go with thee," he said brokenly. "I will think of
thee often, as thou dost wander in exile beyond the sea," and turning,
he descended the ladder into the little boat that awaited him.
Swiftly they carried him to where a great and majestic oak stood
overhanging the water, like some forest monarch, with its sturdy head
upraised against the sky. I watched him as he sat with bent head, his
face turned towards the shore. A few moments and the boat touched the
bank. He sprang out; the men had turned back, and with rapid strokes
were coming toward the vessel, leaving him standing looking at me as I
leaned upon the rail. He was only one hundred yards away, for the river
was narrow at this point, and raising my voice, I hailed him.
"Remember the trust I have confided into thy hands," I shouted, "and
stand stanch and true."
"I shall not forget," he answered, with a wave of his hand. "It is of
thee that I think."
The adventurers were crowding around me with bulging eyes; evidently
they were swelling with curiosity as to what this strange occurrence
could mean, but they said naught to me. The boat had returned, and with
a rush the vessel spread her sails and pursued her journey. I watched
as long as I could see the solitary figure, standing by the giant oak,
waving his sword at me. Finally I could no longer see the glimmer of
the sun upon the steel; only a tiny black speck, and at last that too
faded from my view--I had left him.
We passed the mouth of the river and struck the ocean. In front of us,
a mile or two away, two vessels rocked and tossed upon the bosom of the
Atlantic.
I heard White's voice by my side.
"It is the Dart and the Goodwill," he said, "our two consorts. We will
soon overtake them."
Like a seagull that plumes her feathers, ere she takes some long flight
across the blue sea, the vessel seemed to hesitate and waver, as though
uncertain of her course. Striking the long roll of the surf, she
quivered and rocked a moment, and then spreading her wings, she took
her departure out into that great unknown--the boundless ocean.