_“Will you hear a Spanish lady,
How she woo’d an English man?
Garments gay as rich as may be,
Deck’d with jewels, she had on.”_
THE SPANISH LADY’S LOVE. _Percy’s Reliques of Ancient Poetry_
Mr. Beaumont had just been at a neighbouring farm-house, where there
lived one of Mr. Walsingham’s tenants; a man of the name of Birch, a
respectable farmer, who was originally from Ireland, and whose son was
at sea with Captain Walsingham. The captain had taken young Birch under
his particular care, at Mr. Walsingham’s request.
Birch’s parents had this day received a letter from their son, which in
the joy and pride of their hearts they showed to Mr. Beaumont, who was
in the habit of calling at their house to inquire if they had heard any
news of their son, or of Captain Walsingham. Mr. Beaumont liked to
read Birch’s letters, because they were written with characteristic
simplicity and affection, and somewhat in the Irish idiom, which this
young sailor’s English education had not made him entirely forget.
LETTER FROM BIRCH TO HIS PARENTS.
“H.M.S. l’Ambuscade.
“HONOURED PARENTS,
“I write this from sea, lat. N. 44.15--long. W. 9.45--wind N.N.E.--to
let you know you will not see me so soon as I said in my last, of the
16th. Yesterday, P.M. two o’clock, some despatches were brought to
my good captain, by the Pickle sloop, which will to-morrow, wind and
weather permitting, alter our destination. What the nature of them is I
cannot impart to you, for it has not transpired beyond the lieutenants;
but whatever I do under the orders of my good captain, I am satisfied
and confident all is for the best. For my own share, I long for an
opportunity of fighting the French, and of showing the captain _what
is in me_, and that the pains he has took to make a gentleman, and an
honour to his majesty’s service, of me, is not thrown away. Had he been
my own father, or brother, he could not be better, or _done more_.
God willing, I will never disgrace his principles, for it would be
my ambition to be like him in every respect; and he says, if I behave
myself as I ought, I shall soon be a lieutenant; and a lieutenant in his
majesty’s navy is as good a gentleman as any in England, and has a right
(tell my sister Kitty) to hand the first woman in Lon’on out of her
carriage, if he pleases, and if she pleases.
“Now we talk of ladies, and as please God we shall soon be in action,
and may not have another opportunity of writing to you this great while,
for there is talk of our sailing southward with the fleet to bring the
French and Spaniards to action, I think it best to send you all the news
I have in this letter. But pray bid Kate, with my love, mind this, that
not a word of the following is to take wind for her life, on account of
my not knowing if it might be agreeable, or how it might affect my good
captain, and others that shall be nameless. You must know then that when
we were at ----, where we were stationed six weeks and two days, waiting
for the winds, and one cause or other, we used to employ ourselves,
I and my captain, taking soundings (which I can’t more particularly
explain the nature of to you, especially in a letter); for he always
took me out to attend him in preference to any other; and after he had
completed his soundings, and had no farther use for me in that job, I
asked him leave to go near the same place in the evening to fish, which
my good captain consented to (as he always does to what (duty done) can
gratify me), provided I was in my ship by ten. Now you must know that
there are convents in this country (which you have often heard of,
Kitty, no doubt), being damnable places, where young _Catholic_ women
are shut up unmarried, often, it is to be reasonably supposed, against
their wills. And there is a convent in one of the suburbs which has a
high back wall to the garden of it that comes down near the strand; and
it was under this wall we two used to sound, and that afterwards I used
to be fishing. And one evening, when I was not thinking of any such
thing, there comes over the wall a huge nosegay of flowers, with a stone
in it, that made me jump. And this for three evenings running the same
way, about the same hour; till at last one evening as I was looking up
at the wall, as I had now learned to do about the time the nosegays
were thrown over, I saw coming down a stone tied to a string, and to the
stone a letter, the words of which I can’t particularly take upon me to
recollect, because I gave up the paper to my captain, who desired it of
me, and took no copy; but the sense was, that in that convent there was
shut up a lady, the daughter of an English gentleman by a Spanish
wife, both her parents being dead, and her Spanish relations and
father-confessor (or catholic priest of a man), not wishing she should
get to England, where she might be what she had a right to be by birth,
at least by her father’s side (a _protestant_), shut her up since she
was a child. And that there was a relative of hers in England, who with
a wicked lawyer or attorney had got possession of her estate, and made
every body believe she was dead. And so, it being seven years and more
since she was heard of, she is what is called dead in law, which sort of
death however won’t signify, if she appears again. Wherefore the letter
goes on to say, she would be particularly glad to make her escape, and
get over to old England. But she confesses that she is neither young nor
handsome, and may-be never may be rich; therefore, that whoever helps
her must do it for the sake of doing good and nothing else; for though
she would pay all expenses handsomely, she could not promise more. And
that she knew the danger of the undertaking to be great; greater for
them that would carry her off even than for herself. That she knows,
however, that British sailors are brave as they are generous (this part
of the letter was very well indited, and went straight to my heart
the minute ever I read it); and she wished it could be in the power of
Captain Walsingham to take her under his immediate protection, and
that she had taken measures so as she could escape over the wall of the
garden if he would have a boat in readiness to carry her to his ship;
and at the same hour next evening the stone should be let down as usual,
and he might fasten his answer to it, which would be drawn up in due
course. Concluding all this with, ‘That she would not go at all unless
Captain Walsingham came for her himself (certifying himself to be
himself, I suppose), for she knew him to be a gentleman by reputation,
and she should be safe under his protection, and so would her secret,
she was confident, at all events.’ This was the entire and sum total of
the letter. So when I had read to the end, and looked for the postscript
and all, I found for my pains that the lady mistook me for my captain,
or would not have written or thrown the nosegays. So I took the letter
to my captain; and what he answered, and how it was settled (by signals,
I suppose) between them after, it was not for me to inquire. Not a word
more was said by him to me or I to him on the topic, till the very night
we were to sail for England. It was then that our captain took me aside,
and he says, ‘Birch, will you assist me? I ask this not as your captain,
so you are at liberty to do as you please. Will you help me to rescue
this lady, who seems to be unjustly detained, and to carry her back safe
to her country and her friends?’ I told him I would do that or any thing
else he bid me, confident he would never ask me to do a wrong thing;
and as to the lady, I should be proud to help to carry her off to old
England and her lawful friends, only I thought (if I might be so bold)
it was a pity she was not young and handsome, for his sake. At that he
smiled, and only said, ‘Perhaps it was best for him as it was.’ Then
he settled about the boat, and who were to go, and when. It was twelve
o’clock striking by the great town clock when we were under the walls of
the convent, as appointed. And all was hush and silent as the grave for
our very lives. For it was a matter of life or death, I promise you, and
we all knew as much, and the sailors had a dread of the Inquisition upon
them that was beyond all terrible! So we watched and waited, and waited
and watched so long, that we thought something must have gone wrong,
or that all was found out, and the captain could not delay the ship’s
sailing; and he struck his repeater, and it was within a quarter of one,
and he said, ‘It is too late; we must put back.’ Just then, I, that was
watching with the lantern in my hand, gave notice, and first there comes
down a white bundle, fastened to the stone and cord. Then the captain
and I fixed the ladder of ropes, and down came the lady, as well as ever
she went up, and not a word but away with her: the captain had her in
a trice in our boat, safe and snug, and off we put, rowing for the bare
life, all silent as ever. I think I hear the striking of our oars
and the plashing of the water this minute, which we would have gladly
silenced, but could not any way in nature. But none heard it, or at
least took any notice against us. I can give you no idea of the terror
which the lady manifested when the boat stood out to sea, at the
slightest squall of wind, or the least agitation of the waves; for
besides being naturally cowardly, as all or most women are for the first
time at sea, here was a poor soul who had been watching, and may be
fasting, and worn out mind and body with the terror of perfecting her
escape from the convent, where she had been immured all her life, and as
helpless as a child. So it was wonderful she went through it as well as
she did and without screaming, which should be an example to Kate and
others. Glad enough even we men were when we reached the ship. There
was, at that time, a silence on board you could have heard a pin drop,
all being in perfect readiness for getting under way, the sails
ready for dropping, and officers and sailors waiting in the greatest
expectation of our boat’s return. Our boat passed swiftly alongside,
and great beyond belief was the astonishment of all at seeing a woman
veiled, hoisted out, and in, and ushered below, half fainting. I never
felt more comfortable in my life than when we found her and ourselves
safe aboard l’Ambuscade. The anchor was instantly weighed, all sail
made, and the ship stood out to sea. To the lady the captain gave up his
cabin: double sentries were placed, and as the captain ordered,
every precaution that could shield her character in such suspicious
circumstances were enforced with the utmost punctilio. I cannot
describe, nor can you even conceive, Kate, the degree of curiosity shown
about her; all striving to get a sight of her when she first went down,
and most zealous they were to bring lights; but that would not do, for
they could not see her for her veil. Yet through all we could make out
that she was a fine figure of a woman at any rate, and something more
than ordinary, from the air she had with her. The next day when she was
sitting on deck the wind by times would blow aside her veil so as to
give us glimpses of her face; when, to our surprise, and I am sure to
the captain’s satisfaction, we found she was beyond all contradiction
young and handsome. And moreover I have reason to believe she has fine
jewels with her, besides a ring from her own finger, which with a very
pretty action she put on his, that next day on deck, as I noticed, when
nobody was minding. So that no doubt she is as much richer as she is
handsomer than she made believe, contrary to the ways of other women,
which is in her favour and my good captain’s; for from what I can judge,
after all he has done for her, she has no dislike nor objection to him.
“I have not time to add any thing more, but my love to Kitty, and Nancy,
and Tom, and Mary, and little Bess; and, honoured parents, wishing you
good health as I am in, thank God, at this present,
“I am your dutiful and loving son,
“JOHN BIRCH.
“P.S. I open my letter to tell you we are going southward immediately,
all in high spirits, as there is hopes of meeting the French and
Spaniards. We have just hoisted the nun-lady on board an English packet.
God send her and this letter safe to England.”
* * * * *
Mr. Beaumont might perhaps have been amused by this romantic story, and
by the style in which it was told, if he had not been alarmed by the
hint at the conclusion of the letter, that the lady was not indifferent
to her deliverer. Now Mr. Beaumont earnestly wished that his friend
Captain Walsingham might become his brother-in-law; and he began to have
fears about this Spanish lady, with her gratitude, her rings, and the
advantages of the great interest her misfortunes and helpless condition
would excite, together with the vast temptations to fall in love that
might occur during the course of a voyage. Had he taken notice of the
postscript, his mind would have been somewhat relieved. On this subject
Mr. Beaumont pondered all the way that he rode home, and on this subject
he was still meditating when he saw his mother standing on the steps,
where we left her when Miss Hunter’s carriage drove away.